


A Bard by Trade

by ADAlternatively



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon-Typical Violence, Half-Incubus Jaskier, I've never read the books or played the game, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion-centric, M/M, Monster jaskier, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, So much Canon Divergence, Trans Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADAlternatively/pseuds/ADAlternatively
Summary: Jaskier is a bard, first and foremost. But he's much more than that, not that he would let anyone he didn't have to know. Travelling with Geralt was supposed to be a way out of the shadows of his darker past. Regardless of how long he traveled with the Witcher, his previous colleagues never forgot how he always got his more unsavory jobs done. And so a new job opportunity from an old friend draws him back to Oxenfurt, and onto one of his most dangerous jobs yet.Despite not wanting his Witcher friend to know every one of his secrets, it becomes a necessity to save him.Alternatively; Jaskier is a BAMF with a dark past and a lot more expertise than he lets show. When a job goes wrong, Geralt ends up saving him, and learning more than Jaskier would have liked.Will Geralt and Jaskier continue traveling together, or will this be too much for them to overcome together?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 121
Kudos: 696





	1. Oxenfurt Bound

**Author's Note:**

> This is set pre-Yennefer meeting in the show.  
> Because I adore her, and really want her and Jaskier to get along.
> 
> This is my attempt to make my first shot at half-incubus Jaskier but make it longer and more detailed.  
> I ended up changing like, all of the story details.  
> Enjoy! :3

Jaskier had been playing at this tavern for maybe an hour when he noticed a very unique figure in the corner. They hadn’t heckled, thrown hard bread, or threatened him like everyone else had when he strayed from the raunchier songs he knew. And he refused to exhaust his control over keeping himself hidden in a shoddy tavern in Posada of all places. “I’m so glad that I could bring you all together like this!” He strangles out as he quickly sweeps up the bread and shoves it into his pants, slinging his lute over his back. Not enough coin made for an inn room, but at least he had food tonight. 

He walked closer to the man in the corner, leaning up against a post in front of him. His usual calm demeanor was clouded as he realized that the man was indeed a Witcher. He nearly bolted out of the tavern as he realized it, but he forced himself to stay put. No reason to give the man any idea that he wasn’t as human as he looked.

So instead, he cracked a grin and looked up at the man. “I love the way you just... Sit in the corner and brood.” 

A husky voice retorted, “I’m here to drink alone.”

Jaskier smiled to himself. “Good. Yea, good.” And he continued, sliding closer to the chair across from the Witcher. “No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except...” He paused and kept his eyes on the man. “For you. Come on.” The man in front of him shifted, and Jaskier was sure he was either going to get punched or at the very least threatened. But he still continued, because if Jaskier was anything, it was persistent. “You don’t want to keep a man with...” He paused again and smirked. “Bread in his pants waiting.” He sunk into the chair as he continued, really pressing his luck now. “You must have some review for me. Three words or less.” He clasped his hands together and smiled at the man.

“They don’t exist.” He said, his eyes landing on Jaskier and making him shiver slightly.

“What don’t exist?” He asked, suddenly confused.

“The creatures in your song.” The man continued.

And Jaskier, with the heart of a lover and braver than his own good, said, “And how would you know?” He knew how the man knew. He’d already deduced that he was a Witcher. But this kept him seeming innocent, not nearly as dangerous as he could be. The Witcher kept his silence and Jaskier pulled back slightly. Here was his chance. “Oh. Fun. White hair... Big, old loner. Two very very scary-looking swords. I know who you are.” At this the Witcher stood up, making his way to leave the conversation, to leave Jaskier at the very least. “I know who you are!” Jaskier exclaimed softly. Standing up after the man and leaning against another pole, “You’re the Witcher. Geralt of Rivia.” Geralt kept walking. But Jaskier was smirking. “Called it.”

Geralt left the tavern and Jaskier hurriedly gathered up his things. He already knew he wasn’t staying in the town, but if he could manage to travel with the Witcher to at least the next town, he would have enough material to write several new ballads.

He managed to catch up to the Witcher not far from town and smirked to himself. The Witcher, Geralt, scowled. But that did little to deter Jaskier from filling the silence. “Ah. Need a hand? I’ve got two.” He says, gesturing wildly. “One for each of the, uh, devil’s horns.” He knew about the job the Witcher had taken. One of the many reasons he had decided to head out the way that the Witcher was. Never one to shy away from conflict, Jaskier was a magnet for trouble. 

“Go away.” Geralt grunted as he led Roach.

“I won’t be but silent back-up!” Jaskier said with a smile as he readjusted his pack. Sure, annoying a Witcher was a sure-fire way to end up laid out. But again, Jaskier was braver than his own good. “I heard your note, and, yes, you’re right. Maybe real adventures would make better stories.” He smiled to himself and let his eyes drag over the huge man in front of him. “And you, sir, smell chock-full of them.” A smirk on his face as his eyes continued to take in the view in front of him, “Amongst other things. I mean, what is that? Is that onion?” He shrugged to himself. The Witcher was obviously not one for conversation. Jaskier, however, could talk enough for the both of them. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is. You smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak.”

Geralt kept walking, his annoyance was abundant but not enough to deter the bard. “It’s onion.” He states as he pulls Roach’s reigns a bit tighter.

“Right, yea. Yea.” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Ooh! I could be your barker! Spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia. The-The Butcher of Blaviken.” He gestured widely and grinned. If there was one thing he knew about making an impression, it was to either draw their attention with his looks, his songs or to get under their skin. And having been in Blaviken all of those years ago himself, he knew that the Witcher would not take kindly to his words. Legends you see, never die. And that is part of the problem, as not all legends hold the full truth. And the legend of the Butcher of Blaviken is one that holds but a small kernel.

At this, the Witcher stopped, turned to look at Roach, and then to look at Jaskier. “Come here.” Was all he said and Jaskier walked a few steps forward before being punched in the gut by the Witcher. “Let’s go, Roach.” The Witcher said as he continued onward.

Jaskier groaned as he doubled over. It didn’t hurt as badly as he made it look, but to stay true to his human alias he kneeled on the ground panting for a good few minutes. Before he stood up and shook himself off. “Well. That’s one way to make an impression.” He mutters to himself before continuing after Geralt.

He followed after him and whined a little bit about Geralt leaving him behind. And of course, following Geralt led Jaskier to more trouble. Filavandrel had recognized him as one of the few he could trust and almost ruined his secrets. While the Witcher was still out, he sat in a hushed debate with the elf king. He had laughed at the bard and told him he was going to end up dead, but Jaskier shrugged. “What’s the point of living if I don’t experience it first hand.” Filavandrel nodded, understandingly. 

He agreed to also tie Jaskier up before the Witcher came too. Which he enjoyed, but he wasn’t too keen on the whole ‘probably going to die thing’ from Geralt. And then the elves broke his lute and he was  _ angry  _ now. Or at least, would have been if Filavandrel hadn’t offered him a new lute courtesy of his previous promise to keep their whereabouts safe. 

Once Geralt and Jaskier got out of the ‘sticky’ situation, Jaskier was so ready to get away from Posada. So he pulled his small pack over his back, and swung his lute into his hands, starting to sing a soft song as Geralt said something about this is where they parted. 

Jaskier laughed and kept singing to himself, “A silver-tongued devil, his army of elves...” He rambled on and Geralt scoffed. 

“That’s not what happened. What happened to your newfound respect?” He grumbled.

Jaskier turned to grin. This was going how he had hoped it would. Geralt was still none-the-wiser to his blood-lines. “Respect doesn’t make history.” He says, turning to look at Geralt as he strums his lute. 

He starts singing again and hears Geralt ‘hmm’ and starts following him along the dirt path.

~~~

Jaskier had been following Geralt on and off for almost three years, and it was two months of continuous travel when he decides to take off on his own for a bit. They’d gotten pretty close to Oxenfurt, and he knows his services had been asked for nearly half a year previously. He’d done pretty well with keeping his secrets over the past few years. He’d helped as much as he could without bringing attention to himself, and Geralt had been none the wiser. 

Jaskier’s control over the magic he possessed was minimal at best. He’d learned many small things over his long years, but he was still trying to learn how much power he had. He could start small flames, which helped when they were setting up camp and Geralt went off hunting. He knew a few healing spells, ones that he used when he got banged up more than normal. And he kept his incubus charms hidden when he wasn’t performing in taverns along the path. The taverns they had stopped at had grown considerably more kind toward one Geralt of Rivia as Jaskier’s songs of the Witcher’s praise were sung. And regardless of how little Geralt thought of him being able to protect himself, he knew how to wield a blade, and he always had a dagger stuck in one of his boots. He did well for keeping up his ‘human bard’ persona in the Witcher’s present.

He pulled his pack over his shoulder and turned to Geralt. “I’ll be heading off then.” He says as he pulls his lute to his chest.

“Hmm.” He hears from the man as he sorts his pack onto Roach’s back.

Jaskier shrugs, expecting no more of a response from the man. So he turns towards the large city and starts walking. He definitely didn’t expect to hear Roach whinny softly as she came up behind him with Geralt on her side. “I thought you were heading the other way?” Jaskier asked as Roach nudged his shoulder softly. He patted her nose softly and grinned at her, pulling one of the apple’s he had picked earlier that morning out of his pocket and holding it up for her.

She munched on it and Jaskier looked up at Geralt. “Hello. Earth to the White Wolf.” He rolls his eyes and looks back down to the path. “Thought you were heading the other way.”

“Hmm.” He heard Geralt grunt, and he’s about to say something when Geralt starts talking. “But who else is going to keep you alive.” He grunts out.

“Ah, well I know this might sound insane to you. But I was living just fine before I started hanging out with you, Mr. Witcher. I’m not as useless as you make me out to be.” Jaskier said as he strummed softly on his lute and continued walking on to Oxenfurt.

“You’re not the only one who has to stop off in cities every now and again Bard.” He hears Geralt mutter. 

Jaskier sighs to himself in between his singing. This break off to Oxenfurt was so that he could unleash himself from the persona he’d built up around Geralt. He knew the Witcher well enough to know that he wouldn’t kill him just for being part incubus. But he also knew that he would never trust him again if he found out. “Alright then. Let’s go. I know a decent inn. The owner owes me a favor.” 

Jaskier knows it’ll take at least another hour to make it into Oxenfurt, and he only hopes it goes quickly. His body is thrumming with energy he didn’t realize he was holding onto. He knew he’d spent a lot of time holding up his own walls, not to let it crack open in front of Geralt, but he didn’t realize that it was causing such a problem with his own chaos. He just wanted to get to Oxenfurt and free himself. 

Jaskier hadn’t realized he’d gone quiet until he heard Geralt stop walking. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” Jaskier mumbled, turning to look at the Witcher.

“I said. What’s wrong?” Geralt asked, “You’ve been quiet for nearly half an hour. I can’t even get you to be quiet for five minutes most days. So, something must be wrong.”

Jaskier shrugged, he didn’t have a good answer for Geralt. “Nothing’s wrong.” He says and keeps walking. 

“Hmm.” Geralt grunts before continuing after him. “I can tell when you’re lying Jaskier.” 

Jaskier shudders slightly, this is not a conversation he wants to have. And it’s definitely not a conversation he wanted to have this close to Oxenfurt, with his patience and energy running so low. “I’m fine Geralt.” He’s too tired.

“Hmm.” He hears the Witcher grunt again. 

Not too long until they got to Oxenfurt until he could drop Geralt into the capable hands of his favorite inn. And he can find his way to a seedy tavern on the outskirts of town and let down his walls. He knew he could spend the next few weeks or months just making coin in the large city. 

Geralt grunted again and Jaskier could feel him staring at him. “I’ll be in the city and surrounding areas for a few weeks.” He finally hears the man say. And Jaskier felt something warm bloom in his chest. “If you’re planning on accompanying me when I head out.” 

Jaskier turned to look at the Witcher, shock covering his face. “Are you asking me to keep traveling with you?” He whispered.

Geralt froze for a second and looked away from Jaskier. “Uh. Yea. If you would like to keep traveling with me. I’ll be leaving in a few weeks or so.”

Jaskier breaks into a grin. “And they say Witcher’s can’t feel anything. How can that be true when you obviously love my company.” He turns and keeps walking toward Oxenfurt. A blush high on his cheeks. This certainly complicated his idea of staying in the city for a few months, but he could at least make enough coin to get ahold of his necessary potions for the coming months. He hears Geralt grunt as if to tell him not to push it. “Fine, fine. Maybe not  _ love _ . But you do appreciate my company.” He says offhandedly. “I actually have a few things to take care of at the Academy. They should be handled before the weeks end.” 

He can see the city from the path now, and he’s sighing in relief. Soon enough he can peel off the ribbed fabric around his chest, which was aching even though he’d only had it on a few hours that morning. 

He directs Geralt to the stable nearest the inn he’d told him about. He lets Geralt scare the stableboy for a few moments before clearing his throat and nodding in the direction of the inn. “They’ll take care of Roach. Zoltan will make sure of it.” Jaskier assures, patting Roach’s nose.

Geralt grunts but follows Jaskier. He walks into the tavern with Geralt trailing behind him and grins at his friend. “Long time.” He says as the dwarf goes to greet him.

“Long time indeed my friend. Glad to see you remember I exist.” Jaskier grins and motions him to not let anything out he wouldn’t want others to know, and Zoltan nods.

“Of course. I need a room here for my friend. For a week or so. I’ve some things to attend to, as does he, I suppose.” Jaskier continues, settling himself at the bar as he talks with Zoltan. 

“Sure thing Jask,” Zoltan says as he nods at him. “What brings you back to town?” He asks as he brings a tankard of ale to the bar for Geralt and a glass of honey wine for Jaskier.

“Oh, you know. I received word of a certain party that required my expertise. But beyond that, the Academy asked for me a few months back, and I was finally in the area.” He absentmindedly says as he swirls his cup slowly. He hears Geralt grunt as he takes the tankard. 

Zoltan nods. “Any plans to perform here for your dear friends?”

“Why of course. But not tonight. I’ve got to get to the Academy first.” Jaskier shares a knowing look with Zoltan and hears Geralt grunt again. 

“Take care of my friend here. I’ll have to be off for now. I’ll let you know if I’ll be leaving with you again Geralt.” He says as he downs his cup of honey wine and turns to leave the tavern. “Oh and Geralt. Don’t worry about paying Zoltan. I’ve got it covered.” Zoltan lets out a chuckle. 

“We’ll be seeing you Jaskier.” He hears him chuckle again and makes his way to the academy. 

Jaskier let out a sigh and felt the tension leaving his shoulders as he walked out of the tavern and to the Academy. He knew he could walk the extra twenty minutes without too much trouble, but his chest was killing him. He ducked into an alley and untucked his doublet reaching up his back and pulling the ties on the ribbed fabric. He sucked in a deep breath and stretched. 

Jaskier groaned softly and rubbed his ribs softly. “Fuck. I’m going to need those potions sooner than I thought.” He mutters to himself before continuing on to the Academy. 

He walks into the first hall and smiles. “It’s good to be back. Now, to get to work.”


	2. Secrets are a Bard's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier meets up with an old friend from the Academy to get the details for a job. The payment is a lot different than a normal job, but it's an offer he can't give up. 
> 
> Alternatively; Jaskier is given the payment of his lifetime and refuses to back down from the potentially precarious job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all of this is based off of the show and the little information I have about the games and books.

Two days after Jaskier made it to Oxenfurt he was finally able to talk with his contact at the Academy, the one that had sent him the letter. 

“How lovely to see you again, Jaskier.” The velvety voice sang across the empty hall. 

“Ah yes. Lovely. Just the word I would use there.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and sat down on one of the stools. “What did you need me for Cimda? I don’t just come back to this hell town to hang out with old... Acquaintances. Your letter said you have a job that only I can complete. I’m assuming it has to do with my blood. So what do you want?” Jaskier crossed his arms and glared at the half-elf in front of him.

“Ah, so quick to judge for past bygones. No-matter.” Cimda replies before joining Jaskier on a stool. “It’s a job. Lord What’s-His-Fuck. You know the one. Short, sweaty, gross.” He shudders for dramatic effect. “He wants someone to... Perform at one of his parties. And he refused to pay the last... Performer that he requested.” Cimda clears his throat and looks up at Jaskier. “I remember how much you hate these types. And how much you enjoy letting loose and giving them a, let’s call it, wake up call.” Cimda grins.

Jaskier feels himself breaking into a grin, his canines sharper than before with the anticipation of a  _ hunt _ . “When’s the party?” He asks as he stands from the stool.

“Tomorrow evening.”

“Good. I’ll need your help. I won’t take any payment, but I’m afraid I don’t have any party worthy clothing. And I’m desperately in need of some more of my potions.” Jaskier continues, gesturing at his faded doublet.

“Of course. The forget-me-not blue as per usual?” Cimda asks, already used to getting Jaskier’s clothes for these  _ professional visits _ .

“No. I don’t suppose we could go for something a little more. Golden. Honey-like perhaps?” Jaskier says with a smirk. “I’ve only just realized how good that colour looks on me you see.”

Cimda rolls his eyes. “Of course Jask. How many potions are you needing? Do you plan on leaving after the party?”

“Not for another few days. Geralt has asked me to accompany him, and I’m in the mood for more adventure.” Jaskier shrugs. “Enough to last a few months at the very least if you can. I can keep up the glamour well on my own, but it depletes the chaos I can control.”

Cimda nods. “I’ll have it arranged.”

Jaskier nods, and stands to head out of the Academy. 

“One last thing Jaskier.” Cimda says, not moving from his own stool. “You’re staying safe yes? Your chest? You’re still being safe?”

Jaskier freezes. “As safe as I can be. Have any of the mages...” He trails off, the question on his lips, but Cimda knows what he’s asking.

“One of them. She wasn’t in the city for long. But she’s given me her calling card. She will come if it is used. And she owes me a favour.” Cimda sighs and looks at Jaskier. “She says that it would be difficult, but that she was sure she could do it.”

Jaskier turns to look at Cimda. “You mean...” His eyes are teeming with tears unspilled and Cimda nods. 

“Yes, Jask. You’ll get to be completely you.” Cimda stands and pulls the bard into a hug. “It’s about time.”

Jaskier lets out a choked sob and clings to Cimda. “You would use your favour with a mage to help me...”

Cimda laughs, “Of course Jaskier. You won’t accept normal payment for whatever reason, and I still owe you from the last time you helped us.” 

“Alright, alright.” Jaskier mutters an almost shy smile on his face.

“I’ll use the calling card tonight. She said it would take a day or so for her to get back.” Cimda says releasing Jaskier from the hug.

Jaskier nods and presses a quick kiss to Cimda’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Cimda smiles widely and rolls his eyes. “I’ll have the clothes and potions sent over to Rosemary and Thyme.”

“Thank you Cimda. I’ll make sure the  _ kind _ Lord understands what he signs up for does not have a negotiable price.” Jaskier says, a smirk ghosting his lips.

“I know you will. Get some rest in the meantime.” 

Jaskier nods, feeling his muscles tense as he prepares to go back outside. Cimda pulls a small bottle from his pocket and presses it into Jaskier’s hand. “Here. It’ll get you through until the others are ready. It’s my own personal stash.” 

Jaskier grins and downs the bottle. His canine’s no longer as pronounced as he exhales. The tension slips from his shoulders, and after thanking Cimda once again, is off to the tavern.

  
  


~~~

  
  


Jaskier gets to the tavern and sits at the bar smiling to himself. “What’s got you so chipper?” Zoltan asks, producing a cup of honey wine. 

Jaskier grins up at Zoltan. “Just some good news. Some really good news.” He sips the sweet drink and hums to himself. 

“Care to share?” Zoltan asks, pouring himself a tankard of ale.

“Hmm. I suppose. But first, is my large, angry friend still here?” Jaskier asks, taking another drink.

“Nah. He headed out early this morning.” Zoltan says with a shrug. “Don’t see why that matters.”

“He doesn’t know quite a few things about me Zoltan. I’d prefer it if we kept it that way.” Jaskier says, glaring into his cup. “You know, the two things that could make or break my entire existence. The man hunts monsters, what else could I be called.”

Zoltan nods. “He’s not here. But I don’t think he’d think you a monster.”

Jaskier shrugs. “I’d still rather him not know. At least until I’m ready for him to.”

Zoltan nods and rolls his eyes. “What’s the good news then.”

“Cimda needs my help with some... Important business.” He says with a smile on his face. “And he has a favour from a mage that he’s paying me with.”

“Oh?”

“She said she could. It will be difficult. But She said she can do it.” Jaskier grins at Zoltan with tears in his eyes. “Finally.”

“Finally indeed. I’m happy for you, my friend.” Zoltan says, looking up at him before hearing a loud thud against the door and watching a very filthy, very tired Witcher slowly walk into the tavern.

Jaskier turns quickly and smiles. “Ah, Geralt. Welcome back. I’ll get you a bath ready. Get him something to eat, please, Zoltan.” He stands and makes his way up to Geralt’s room.

He sighs to himself as he hears two young tavern hands come up with buckets of water. “I’ve got it from here. You two can head back down.”

“Sure thing Master Jaskier.” They said before scurrying back out.

Jaskier groans before rolling up his sleeves and grabbing the buckets of water, he smirks to himself as he realizes that Zoltan sent him cold water on purpose. He pours them into the tub and rolls his eyes. He makes a small sign with his hand and slowly reaches down, feeling the nearly boiling water and smiling. He flits around the room for a few moments, grabbing a few of the oils and scented salts he had left in the room. Tossing a small pinch of the salts and a few drops of the oils into the water. Satisfied that the scents weren’t too overwhelming he leaves the room.

He heads back down to the tavern and sees Geralt sitting in a booth eating what looked like stew. He smiles at him and nods and he sees Geralt nod, finishing his stew and standing up with a grimace and a quiet grunt.

Jaskier watches him go to his room and sighs quietly, sliding back to the bar. “So. Performing tonight?” Zoltan asks with a hopeful grin. 

“Yes, I think so.” Jaskier says, his fingers restless and ready to play. Zoltan pulls his lute out from behind the bar with a smirk. “Alright, alright. I’ll get to it.” Jaskier says with a laugh. 

He stands and starts playing an old tune. 

He dances around the tavern and sings to the patrons, a grin on his face. It’s only been a few hours when he slides back up to the counter to Zoltan’s smirking face. “Alright. I really must call it a night. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. Cimda is sending over some people early in the morning, do wake me for them please.” Jaskier says as he takes a final bow to the patrons of the tavern and heads up the stairs. 

Jaskier makes his way to his room and stretches, peeling off his doublet. He stares down at the ribbed length of fabric around his chest and sighs. “Soon.” He mutters to himself as he starts unlacing it. He peels it off and sighs to himself, rubbing his sides where the ribs had dug into his skin. “Soon...” He whispers again. 

Jaskier cared less about his appearance than most people understood. He wasn’t worried about being the most attractive person in a room, he cared much more for his personality and his music. Keeping up the glamour he’s had for years is exhausting, but a lot of his confidence has come from knowing his glamour has stayed up. To finally have the ability to change the one thing causing him stress and fear. To finally live his life as he had always wanted without having to use his chaos to keep up the front.

Jaskier yawned and pulled on a soft linen shirt before crawling into bed. He knew the next day was going to be long and a lot more exhausting than he had wanted. Tomorrow he had a show to put on, a very important one. And he knew that this performance could break the way Geralt looked at him if he found out, so he was going to make sure the other man had no idea what was happening.


	3. Baring Your Teeth Doesn't Mean You're Smiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier gets prepared to attend the Lord's party to start his job. He entertains until the late hours of the evening and finally kick starts his plan. But, in typical Jaskier fashion, things don't go exactly as planned.
> 
> Alternatively; Jaskier goes to the party, and ends the night in chains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving writing this! I hope you all are enjoying! More to come soon!

Jaskier’s morning was spent trying on three golden outfits. By early afternoon the tailor who was in his room was muttering to himself as he tried to work out which ones worked best. Jaskier smirked and grabbed mismatched pieces from each set, pulling them on and clearing his throat. The tailor turned, his eyes widening. “How do you manage to do my job better than me Jaskier? Every time. You’re going to put me out of business.” He laughed and gathered up the other pieces, leaving Jaskier to himself. 

Jaskier sighed, pulling off the golden fabric and crawling back into his more worn clothes. He makes his way down to the tavern after laying his clothes across his bed and leaning his lute up against the wall. 

Zoltan nods at him before raising the bottle of honey wine. “Not today. I’ve got a job tonight, need to be on my toes.” 

“Ah. The big job you were talking about. Where are you heading off to then?” Zoltan asks, instead pouring him a cup of juice. 

“The Lord to the south, what’s his name. Ferest?” Jaskier says, waving his hand dismissively. 

“And you’ll be back...” Zoltan said, trailing off into a well known question.

“If everything goes well, I will be back before midnight.” Jaskier says, “If things don’t go well... I might not be back at all.” He murmurs, looking down with a sour look on his face.

“You’d better make it back.” Zoltan gruffs. “Your Witcher friend’d be mighty upset if you died on him here.” 

Jaskier chuckles. “Nah. He’d be fine. He’d move on to the next monster. Next town.” Jaskier smiles sadly. “He’d be fine.” 

Zoltan rolls his eyes. “Then you’re both stupid.” He mutters to himself, walking away from Jaskier. 

Jaskier thinks on that for a second before scrunching up his nose. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean...” He mutters to himself before returning to his room. He slides the clothes into his pack, slinging it over his shoulder along with his lute. He grabs two of his daggers, sliding one into his boot and the other into a strap on his ribbed undershirt.

He waves to Zoltan on his way out of the tavern and gets a wave in response.

He walks past the small stable and smiles at Roach who whinnies at him softly. He pats her nose and pulls an apple out of his pocket for her. “Here you go girl. I dunno if I’m gonna see you tonight if I get back.” She kicks her feet and nudges him. “Okay, okay. I will try my damnedest to come back so you can keep getting treats.” He smiles and pats her nose again. 

He smiles to himself and walks onward toward the Academy. Cimda had sent word that he had a horse set up for him there. He walks up to the small stable and the stable boy points out his horse for the day. A light cream coloured mare, named Buttercup. He straps his lute to her and tosses the stable boy a coin before heading into the Academy. He finds Cimda and sits across from him at his desk.

“You don’t seem nervous.” Cimda says, looking up at Jaskier. 

He shrugs and sighs. “No point. Either it goes well or it doesn’t.” He says, and he knows he sounds cynical, maybe he’s more like Geralt than he thought.

Cimda hums slightly. “So, you have a plan, I’m assuming.”

“The plan is to play the party like normal. And then ask the Lord to speak privately. He won’t refuse, I’ve played for him before, and it was more than my instrumentals.” Jaskier shudders to himself, remembering the first time he’d played for Ferest. It hadn’t been his best performance, but the Lord had taken a liking to him for other reasons. Reasons Jaskier didn’t let influence his payment any longer. “He’ll think it’s a repeat performance, and I’m positive he won’t say no.” He smirks to himself, he knows if nothing else he has the element of surprise on his side.

“I know what happened last time Jaskier. If he tries something again, do not hesitate.” Cimda’s eyes are dark and he stares intensely at Jaskier. 

“I do not plan to.” Jaskier smirks. “I wasn’t as equipped back then. I do not plan to make the same mistakes.”

Cimda sighs. “He will learn his lesson. One way or another, I suppose.” 

“One way or another.” Jaskier agrees.

“Be careful.” Cimda says, and Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Julian. I am serious. Do not do anything rash if it is going to endanger your life. The Academy is not as strong as it once was, we cannot storm a Lord’s castle to save you.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Jaskier says, his hair standing up at the use of his Academy given name. “I will take care of this. Regardless of whether or not I end up in trouble. I know the risks.” 

“Okay, okay. Go get dressed. Your horse is ready, I’m assuming she is to your liking.”

“Buttercup, huh? Very fitting.” Jaskier says with a chuckle. He stands and moves to leave the hall. “Okay. I’ll be heading out once I’ve changed. I’ll send word once I get back of the outcome, make sure you have a runner at the tavern.”

Cimda nods. “Be safe.” He adds as Jaskier leaves. Then sighing to himself he looks down at the letter he was currently writing, addressed to one Geralt of Rivia. “A last resort, in case things go as badly as I’m assuming they will.”

  
  


~~~

Jaskier rides up to the Lord’s castle and drops his horse off, grabbing his lute and making his way into the main dining hall. The attendees were all excited that their entertainment was there and he quickly started playing, knowing it was going to be a long night. He kept an eye on the Lord for the majority of the night, making sure the knife in his doublet hadn’t shifted. He smirks to himself, he can feel the effects of his potion starting to slip, and he knows that the people in attendance are going to enjoy the last of his show very much. 

His canines are dropping slightly, becoming just slightly too long to be normal. And his eyes brighten, the normally ocean like blue becoming more electric and alarming. His skin nearly shimmers, and those that are paying attention to his performance become almost more enraptured.

He continues his performance, more energy coursing through his veins than normal. Jaskier dances more than normal and makes his way through the dining hall, mingling with as many of the guests as he can. Most of them are enthralled by him, even though he’s using as little of his charms as he can. He can feel the Lord's eyes on him, following him most of the night. He makes a special effort to return as many of those glances as he can, batting his lashes and smiling at him.

It’s a lot nearer midnight than he’d wanted when people start leaving, the dining hall clears quickly, with only a few groups of attendees surrounding the edges of the room. Ferest looks at Jaskier again, and he smiles, bowing graciously toward the Lord. He shoulders his lute and walks up to the Lord, the other instrumentals continuing on with the jig they’d been playing. 

“My Lord.” Jaskier says, bowing as he approaches.

“Sir Jaskier!” Ferest says, laughing loudly to himself. “What an exciting turn around! We always love your presence here!” 

Jaskier forces himself to smile. “Ah! I always love performing for such lovely guests!” He walks slightly closer and in a much quieter voice adds, “I was wondering if there was a way we may talk in private, my Lord.” He allows his voice to take on a flirty tone, despite the bile rising in his throat.

“Absolutely Sir Jaskier. Meet me in the eastern hall in ten minutes. We can have a... Conversation.” Ferest grins, and Jaskier feels his stomach drop memories from his past. He keeps his face bright and nods. He plays another jig and then dips out toward the eastern hall. 

His face falls, he no longer cares to mask his annoyance. He pushes himself into a small alcove, listening intently to any footsteps coming near. 

He waits for a few minutes before hearing the shuffling footsteps of one Lord Ferest. He allows the man to walk past him and sit on a bench before he peels himself from the alcove and walks towards him. “Lord Ferest.” He says, forcing another smile to his face. 

“Ah, Sir Jaskier. It’s lovely to see you again. It’s been too long.” The man's grin is unsettling, even by Jaskier’s non-human standards. He stands and approaches Jaskier. “So, little song bird. It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen each other.”

Jaskier smiles back, backing himself up against a wall. He hated the feeling of being trapped, but he knew he could make it out of this position without much work. “Ah, yes. But before we continue our talk, I do have a few things I would like to talk to you about.” Deflect, change the subject, get him to lower his guard.

Jaskier’s predator senses were tingling, he knew what to do, he knew how to do it, but he was becoming more nervous as the moments ticked on.

“Oh, and what might that be?”

Jaskier smirks now, the Lord had pressed up against him against the wall. Good, he knew his prey would react this way. “It has to do with payment my good Lord.”

“Why of course, you’ll be paid. You’ll be paid even more handsomely if you learn your place and shut up now.” Ferest growled, trying to kiss his way up Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier felt himself stiffen and slams them around so the Lord is up against the wall, his hands pinned above his head, his knee between his crotch. The smirk on his face is real this time, and the boiling of his blood is loud in his ears. “Oh no, not my payment my Lord. The payment of my fellow bards. The ones that you have been less than kind too. The ones that you’ve cheated out of coin. And the ones that you have humiliated and hurt. The ones that you have pushed to less than savory ends.” Jaskier growls low in his throat. The Lord’s eyes are wide and he seems scared.

But too late Jaskier hears several noises at once, the first is a chain, the second is a sword, and the third. The third is the laugh of the Lord standing directly in front of him.

The only thing Jaskier can think before he feels the silver stinging his neck as the chain wraps around him and a hilt of a sword against his temple is  _ Fuck. This is where I die. _


	4. Bards in Cages and Witchers in Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier wakes up in a cell and accepts that this will be his end. Geralt returns from a long hunt, and gets word that the bard is in trouble. He hurries to rescue him.
> 
> Alternatively; Jaskier suffers. Geralt rescues his bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half is pretty dark, this chapter is pretty dark in general.  
> Jaskier suffers for the fandom, but we love him.

Jaskier has been laying silently, his skin burning under the silver chains and his head aching, up against a cold wall for almost an hour when he hears footsteps on the cold stone floor. He keeps his head down and his eyes closed, better to let the fucks that locked him in here think he was still out. He steadied his breathing and listened to the footsteps get closer to what he assumed was the cell he was in. They got closer and he heard the distinct sound of keys jingling. 

“Wakey-Wakey, you monster fuck.” He hears at the same time there’s a banging on what he assumed were the bars of the cell. 

Jaskier lets his eyes slide open, narrowing in on the person banging on the cell bars.

“Ah, it’s alive.” The man standing outside the cell smirks, banging on the bars. “We’re going to have a good time. Now why don’t you tell me what type of fucked up you are, and we can start the games.”

Jaskier scoffs. “Why would I answer you?” His throat is killing him, the silver digging into his skin, burning fresher spots. He winces involuntarily and glares up at the man.

“Aw. Don’t be like that precious. We’re gonna have a lot of really fun times, if you just tell me what you are.” The man snarls, his smirk growing wider. Jaskier gets a good look at him. His eyes are dark, his skin sun-tanned, and his frame larger than most men. Jaskier would guess he’s almost as big as Geralt, which makes his mind wander for a moment. 

He wonders if Geralt is gonna miss him, if he’ll even notice. Zoltan will have sent word to the Academy that he wasn’t back, he knew that much. But there wasn’t much Cimda could do, he’d already said that much. There was no getting out of this one alive, no one was coming to help him, to save him.

He looked up at the man and laughed. “I don’t foresee me having any good times at all, if we’re being honest with each other.”

The man’s smirk drops, glaring at Jaskier. “The hard way is gonna hurt a lot more song bird.” He chuckles to himself and the cell door swings open. 

Jaskier is unable to move in his current state, and just looks up at the man, sneering at him. “So be it.”

He isn’t sure if it’s minutes or hours later, but he’s stopped crying from the beating he’d been receiving. His tears were dried up and he was too tired to feel the pain. His whole body ached, it was heavy and tense and he couldn’t breathe without wincing. He took a quick mental count of his injuries, he could feel at least three broken ribs, and he knew he was bruised all over. His lungs ached, and he was sure his face was swelling already. His throat was raw from silencing his own screams, he didn’t care if they saw him cry, but he wouldn’t be caught singing for his captors. He wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. 

The man was panting, tiring from the endless beating and berating. He wiped his brow, swiping Jaskier’s blood along his face. Jaskier almost laughs at that. “I’ll be back later. Get some rest song bird. I’ll break you yet.”

Jaskier lets out what is meant to be a laugh, but comes out a choked cough. “Fuck. You.” He manages to gasp out.

The man laughs and kicks him again, leaving the cell and locking the door behind him.

Jaskier sits up slightly, he can feel his joints screaming, already attempting to push themselves back into place. He may bruise and bleed like a human, but his body had a way of pulling itself back together. Even in the worst of scenarios when he wished it would just give out. He pushes himself back up against the wall, and devolves into a fit of coughs. His lungs burning he gulps in air and leans over, coughing up blood and groaning to himself. “Fuck.”

He feels his consciousness fading as he leans his back against the wall. The bite from the silver no longer enough to keep him awake. He slips into an inky black, his body trying desperately to heal his wounds.

  
~~~

  
  


Geralt had finally returned from hunting what was first described to him as a pack of drowners, but ended up being a damn near swamp full. It was well past midnight, and all he wanted was a tankard of ale and a bath. He staggered his way into the Rosemary and Thyme, nodding at Zoltan. He had grown to not mind the dwarfs' presence. But tonight he seems on edge, which is very noticable, despite Geralt being dead tired and having only cleaned himself in a stream before heading back into the city. He pushes himself into a chair in the corner and Zoltan brings him an ale. 

“Here ya go Witcher.” He says, still looking nervous. 

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asks, taking a long drag of the ale.

“Ah. I’m sure it’ll be nothing...” The dwarf mutters.

“What.” Geralt says, no longer asking.

“It’s Jaskier. He had a... Job of sorts tonight. He told me he’d be back before midnight. And well. It’s nearly three hours past. And he hasn’t come back. I’ve sent word to Oxenfurt that he hasn’t returned. I’m waiting for word back.” The dwarf says, staring at the door.

“Hmm.” Geralt grumbles, finishing his ale.

He hears the door slam open, and looks up to see a boy with wide eyes scanning the room. He see’s Geralt and makes a beeline for him. Pulling a letter out of his pocket and handing it to the Witcher as soon as he gets close. “It’s from the Academy. Cimda. Says it’s urgent!” He exclaims, and Zoltan freezes, eyes locked on the letter and Geralt. 

Geralt opens the letter and reads through it quickly. “Fuck.” He mutters to himself. 

“It’s Jask isn’t it... He’s in trouble.” Zoltan says quietly.

“Hmm.” The Witcher grumbles. He stands up and nods at the boy. “I’ll bring him back. Tell Cimda to be ready at the Academy. He’ll know what to do.”

Zoltan looks up at the Witcher and nods. “You’ll bring him back right?”

“Hmm.”

Geralt leaves the tavern and pats Roach on the neck gently. “I know, girl. Twice in one day. Tomorrow we’ll get you a bunch of oats and a nice brush down.” He murmurs, digging through his saddle-bag to grab a few potions. “Let’s go girl. We gotta save our bard.” He chuckles to himself. “Again.” 

Roach whines softly but doesn’t give too much protest. Geralt pulls himself up onto the saddle and she sets off. It doesn’t take long for Geralt to get to the Lord’s manor. He leaves Roach a bit away, untied, knowing she’ll come when he calls. He pats her again, and she nudges his shoulder. 

“Yes. I’ll bring back our bard. Who else would make sure you’re spoiled as often as him.” He smiles and pats Roach again. “Who else would make sure we’re both okay.” He sighs to himself.

He can feel the worry in his chest, worry he only feels when Jaskier is in trouble. He needs to calm himself, know what he’s getting into before charging in. 

He makes his way to the wall of the manor, listening to any noises he might catch. He can hear the noises of a party still going on, no music, just the laughter of too drunk aristocrats having too much fun. He makes his way around the back of the manor and feels his heart clutch. He can hear a soft rhythmic beating of a heart, faster than a normal humans, but the same speed as a bard he happens to know. He sighs and starts looking for a way into the manor, finding a door into the servants quarters. He knows he’s got the element of surprise on his side, and he knows that’s important in a situation like this. But the worry in his chest is tightening. 

He quietly makes his way through the servants quarters, listening for that fluttering heartbeat to guide him. He can hear laughter from behind a wall, and listens in for a moment. What he hears causes his blood to boil. He stops a growl from ripping from his chest and returns his mind to searching for his bard.

He can’t even remember when he’d started referring to Jaskier as his bard. But it had been long enough that it’s all he could remember thinking of him as. Because Jaskier is  _ his bard _ . Had always been  _ his bard _ . And there was no way he was going to let anything hurt  _ his bard _ without paying the consequences.

He hears the too-fast heartbeat and quickly makes his way towards it. When he rounds the corner he can see the cells of the manors prison and his heart clenches. He can see Jaskier in a heap against one of the walls, wrapped in chains. He can also see dried blood on the bards clothing. Not his normal baby blue, but a golden honey colour. And Geralt’s heart clenches again. Regardless of what the bard thought, he listened when he spoke, and he’d heard him describe Geralt’s eyes as honey, liquid gold, and topaz more times than he can count. And for Jaskier to change his normal dusty baby blue aesthetic for something so much more Geralt was almost too much for the Witcher.

He made his way to the cell, keeping as quiet as possible as he pulled the lock apart with his eyes trained on the bard who still hadn’t moved. He’s making sure he’s breathing, the rise and fall of his chest laboured, his breaths choppy. He glances over the rest of the bard and takes a better look at the chains.  _ Wait. _ Why is he in silver chains? What sort of Lord binds a bard in silver chains? Geralt doesn’t have time to question it before he’s standing over the bard and pulling the chains off of him, shaking him slightly. “Jaskier.” He whispers, glancing behind him at the cell door. 

Jaskier stirs slightly, opening his eyes. They don’t seem to want to focus. “Come to finish me off...” He slurs.

“Jaskier. It’s me.” Geralt mutters, pulling him to his feet.

The bard whimpers, his breath catching. “Geralt?” He murmurs, his eyes finally focusing on Geralt’s own. 

“Mhm. Keep it down. We’re gonna get you out of here.” He whispers again, “Can you walk?” Jaskier takes a hesitant step before hissing in pain. “That’s a no.” Geralt looks around them again before sighing to himself. “Alright.” He picks the man up carefully, like a bride, and carries him out of the cell. “Keep quiet.”

Jaskier nods but lets out the quietest giggle. “At least I get to have one last good dream...” He mutters to himself. And Geralt feels him snuggle into his chest. His heart clenches harder this time. He quickened his pace, retracing his path from the small servants quarters. Once he makes it out the door he can hear a bunch of yelling from inside, and he knows that the Lord’s men have found an empty cell. He whistles loudly and Roach hurries to him. She nudges up against Jaskiers shoulder gently and makes a soft noise.

“We got our bard. We have to get him to the city. To help.” He slides Jaskier into the saddle before getting on behind him. He says before urging her to take off. 

Now that they’re a decent way from the Lord’s estate he takes in Jaskier, who is sleeping again, leaning on his chest. He can see welts on his skin, his face is bruised and bloody. But he’s more confused about the seared looking links in his flesh. Links that look a lot like the silver chain that had been around him.

Geralt lets himself think for a few moments, Roach carrying them back to the city. Silver only left marks on creatures, burned their flesh wherever it touched. Why would it do anything to Jaskier’s skin?  _ Unless. _

He shakes his head. He’s not worried about that right now. He’s worried about getting Jaskier to the Academy. To this Cimda guy. To safety.

But he can feel the worry of what happens next crawling under his skin. Questions he won’t let himself answer let alone think. He is still angry, it’s seething inside of him and he wants to go back to that manor and kill every man in it. But he knows that won’t help matters, and it would in the end, only hurt Jaskier more. So he forces himself to keep focus on the task at hand.  _ Jaskier. Jaskier. Jaskier. _


	5. Worries Wash Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt paces the halls of the Academy waiting for news of Jaskier's healing process, and has an important conversation. Jaskier has an eye opening conversation with a Sorceress that pushes him to demand better for himself.
> 
> Alternatively; Geralt starts to understand his feelings. Jaskier admits to his own, and starts to understand his worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy!  
> I'm having so much fun writing this!

Geralt is pacing. He hates pacing. He hates being around people. And he especially hates having to wait. He’s worried and it shows. He hasn’t slept since the previous night and as the sun is high in the sky he is more tense and even more exhausted than he thought he could be.

Once he had gotten Jaskier back to the Academy, Cimda and one of his helpers had whisked him away, promising Geralt that he would be okay. But that had been hours ago. And Geralt had been on edge since. His hands are shaking.  _ Shaking _ . That’s never happened before and he doesn’t want to think about what that means.

He hears someone coming down the hallway, gliding steps, soft but purposefully and he turns. He can tell the woman in front of him is a witch, but he doesn’t care much anymore. He hadn’t seen anyone in hours, and the only news he’d gotten about Jaskier had been that he was being healed. He trains his eyes on her, and he can only imagine what she sees.

A trapped animal. Pacing in a cage that he’s let himself be put in. He knows he looks ragged, he is still filthy from the drowners, and he’s sure some of Jaskier’s blood rubbed off on him.

She smiles at him, looking him up and down. “Stand still.” She says as she steps a big closer.

He tenses involuntarily but stops moving. She waves her hand in front of her, and he suddenly feels cleaner. He can tell that he’s no longer caked in mud and he grunts softly. “Are you his healer?” He knows he should thank her, but he can’t wait any longer. No one will tell him how  _ his bard _ is and he’s starting to get testy.

“Yes. He’s resting now. He’s going to be fine.” She says, turning and motioning for him to follow. “You on the other hand should get some rest Witcher. You look like you’re going to keel over.”

Geralt grunts, following her. “I want to see the bard first.” He mutters and she nods.

“Very well. Follow me.” She leads him down several hallways. “You’re lucky you got to him when you did. Much longer and he would have lasting damage to his skin.”

Geralt flinches. He’d been trying not to think about the silver. “Hmm.” He murmurs. Well he’s thinking about it now. And he’s still confused. “I have a question, Witch. Before we get there.” He says, it’s now or whenever Jaskier wakes. And Geralt is fairly certain he’s going to need some time to process the information.

“Ask away.” The witch says. “But my name is Triss.”

“Triss. What...” He pauses, trying to figure out how to phrase his question.

Triss interrupts his thoughts. “If you’re trying to ask what he is, I’m afraid I’m not quite willing to tell you. I’m not keen on taking away a person's choice if given the option.” She turns and smiles up at Geralt, he can see the honesty in her eyes, as if she knows about having her choice ripped away from her. “If it makes you feel better, I can tell you what he isn’t.” She turns and continues walking. “He isn’t a monster, not in the way people would think. He’s a good man. A talented bard. And excellent at his job, regardless of what happened tonight. He’s loyal. He’s a wonderful friend. And I’ve never met anyone that is kinder than he is.”

Geralt nods. He knows that no matter what Jaskier ends up being he can’t just leave him. Regardless of how he had wanted to continue living his life, that bard had broken down walls he didn’t know existed and wormed his way into his heart. “Thank you.” He whispers finally.

Triss turns, quirking up an eyebrow.

“For... The cleaning... And for... I guess... Comforting? Me?” He says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t really know what he was thanking her for, but he knew it was something he felt he needed to do. 

She laughs and it’s soft and melodic, calming. “It’s quite alright Geralt. Now, Yennefer is in with him now, but once she’s done we can head in and you can see your bard.”

Geralt nods and smiles to himself.  _ His bard. _

The doors open and a long hair woman walks out, smiling at Triss, and looking up at the Witcher with her eyes burning with something he doesn’t quite understand. “He’s resting, not quite asleep. Said he’s waiting on, and I’m quoting here, ‘A stupidly handsome man’.” She laughs and Geralt would be blushing if his body allowed it, he can feel his ear tips growing warm. “Get in there Witcher. Just know, he’s on a few painkillers and will probably fall asleep soon.”

He nods and walks in the door, watching as she pulls them closed behind him. 

He turns his attention to the man sitting up in the blankets on the bed. He feels his heart clench and he feels the worry and anxieties drain from his body. He smiles at his bard.

_ His bard. _

_ He’s okay. _

_ Jaskier. _

  
  


~~~

  
  
  


When Yennefer swept into the room only a moment after Triss had left Jaskier, he nearly jumped out of the bed. She had shushed him and told him that she was just there to check on him. 

“Triss just left. She said she was going to go and get my frie-... Someone.” Jaskier said, still not sure he wants to call Geralt a friend, the man always argued that they weren’t. Yennefer had rolled her eyes and laughed softly, assuring him that she was well aware. 

“I’m not here to heal you. Not of these wounds. My name’s Yennefer.” She says, holding his hand softly and looking into his eyes. He can feel her looking into his mind but he allows it, she pulls away with a soft gasp. “I see why Cimda wouldn’t tell me any of the finer details.” She says quietly. She’s looking down at her lap, having pulled her arm back.

“I... Are you...” Jaskier pauses, his head still isn’t right, and he’s sure he has a concussion. “Can you do it?” He asks softly after a moment.

She nods. “After you heal up from this.” She said, gesturing to, well, to the state of his currently injured body. 

He nods. “Do you... Are there any of my potions here?” Feeling the nervousness of seeing Geralt seep into his bones.

Yennefer shakes her head. “It will hurt you more than help you right now, Jaskier.” She smiles sympathetically. “I am assuming he hasn’t seen you without them.”

Jaskier’s breath catches and he nods. “Not yet he hasn’t...” He sinks down into the blankets, anything to obscure himself as much as possible.

“They’re coming now, in the hallway. Do you want him to come in?” She asks standing and moving towards the door.

“Yes. I’m the one that called for him to begin with. I owe him my thanks, even if he leaves. Or I suppose, worse, kills me for the monster I am...” Jaskier says softly.

Yennefer laughs quietly, and if Jaskier wasn’t already injured and in bed he’s sure the hair on the back of his neck would be standing up. The woman laughing at him had an aura about her, of power and control, that was shocking even to him. “He’s not going to kill you. If he cares about you even a fraction as much as you do about him. He wouldn’t have snuck into that manor to save you if he didn’t care about you Jaskier.” She turns to look at him. “Don’t let him treat you like you’re a burden. If he keeps it up, leave him. It will hurt, but it will be better than living in his shadow and living in pain.”

Jaskier gapes up at her. “I thought I’d closed that part off...” He murmurs.

“You’re sick. It wasn’t hard to get past your barriers.” She says with a shrug. “I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped. But I’m serious, bard.” She smiles at him, and he can see the struggle in her eyes. “Don’t let him treat you like that. If he values your life enough to save you like that... You deserve to be treated better.”

Jaskier nods numbly. “I know...” He can feel his mouth drying. “But Yennefer...”

“You love him.” She says and he can see the emotions she was struggling with. Anger turns to  _ envy  _ to understanding. “But you can’t spend your life loving someone who refuses to love you back.”

He nods, and he feels a tear break free. “I do.. I love him...” He wipes his face and groans. “Fuck. I’ve never actually... Hah, never actually said it before.” He looks up at Yennefer and she smiles at him. 

“And if he loves you too, which I believe he does, with the little I saw of him in your mind. Then maybe it’s best if you tell him.” 

Jaskier laughs and he can finally hear the voices outside of the door. “Yea. Maybe. Send that stupidly handsome man in.” He clasps a hand over his mouth, stopping a giggle.

“Ah, the painkillers must be kicking in.” Yennefer laughs to herself. “But I will. Get some rest. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. By the weeks end we should be able to go through with the spell.”

Jaskier nods, another giggle leaving his lips. His eyes suddenly a lot heavier than before. “Thank you Yen. You’re really nice. And pretty.” He says softly, curling back into the blankets. He feels exhausted, and all he wants to do is go back to sleep.

“Do you want to be awake when I send him in?” She asks before opening the door.

He nods. “Better to have the conversation lucidly I suppose.”

She sighs and turns toward a small table, bringing him a cup of some sort of potion. “Just a sip. It’ll give you a little pick-me-up. It won’t last super long, maybe half an hour or so.”

He smiles taking a sip and grasping one of Yennefer’s hands softly. “Thank you.”

She rolls her eyes, but smiles at Jaskier. “Men are stupid.” She says, putting the cup back on the table and walking out of the door.

Jaskier sits up slightly, willing his heart to calm in his chest.

Better to get the conversation done now. He’s already hurt, what’s some more.

And then Geralt is walking through the door, and all Jaskier can see on his face is... Wait...

_ Worry. Panic. _

And the moment his eyes fall on Jaskier.

_ Relief. _

Well, that was unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know! I'm sorry! It's another cliffhanger! I swear the next chapter has them actually talk about their feelings and everything!


	6. Difficult Conversations and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier tells Geralt the truth about his heritage. Geralt deals with emotions he's been pushing down for years. Two important conversations are had, but there are still more to be had.
> 
> Alternatively; Jaskier explains the silver injuries. Geralt realizes he loves his bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I felt bad about the last few chapters ending in cliffhangers!   
> So I pushed through and finished this one tonight so that there was some relief from the angst-y pain I've created.

Geralt can feel his chest tightening as he walks into the room. Jaskier is staring at him when he walks in and he feels like he’s swallowing his tongue. But he also feels his shoulders drop, the anxieties he’d been having dropping as he sees that his bard is okay.  _ His bard. _

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and he walks to the side of Jaskier’s bed, pulling the chair closer and falling into it. He sees the questions in Jaskier’s eyes, but he can’t answer anything right now. He leans over the side of the bed, grabbing one of Jaskier’s hands and holding it to his face. He inhales deeply and sighs, a soft rumbling in his chest as his eyes fall shut. He smelled fine, safe, no longer of fear or hurt. Chamomile and springtime, calming. Geralt lets out a shaky sigh and looks up at Jaskier.

He can see the bards eyes are wide, his mouth open as if he was about to say something, but he looks frozen. His eyes flicking from his hand to Geralt. 

Geralt needs to say something. He knows he needs to, but he feels like he’s been chewing on sand, and thinking about what to say is only making things worse. So he opens his mouth and just lets whatever is there fall out. “You’re okay.” Well, it certainly could have been worse, except that it came out a deep grumble. 

Jaskier nods and finally looks like he’s been freed from his trance. His hand is still against Geralt’s cheek, and he relaxes it, cupping his face gently. He looks confused, lost in thought maybe. And Geralt realizes this is probably the only time he’s seen the bard at a loss for words. 

Geralt can also see that he’s fighting saying something, his eyes seem darker and his lips are pursed more than normal. He’s... Angry? Annoyed? Geralt isn’t sure, he’s seen the look before, but he also hasn’t slept in almost two days and he’s exhausted. But he knows that look means that he’s fucked up somehow. So he needs to apologize, but for what? What did he do this time? He’s trying to think of what he did, maybe before he left for the drowner contract, when Jaskier taps his cheek lightly.

“Hey... You were uh.. Miles away there.” His eyes are lighter now, shinier, brighter than normal. Geralt knows he’s not a poet, but he’s sure he could drown in those eyes. “I’m okay. What are you overthinking about?”

Geralt sighs, and leans into Jaskier’s hand, his eyes falling shut. Too tired to realize he wouldn’t have at any other point before this. That this was a turning point, and there was no going back. “Was worried.” He murmurs, inhaling Jaskier’s scent again. It’s softer than normal, but also brighter somehow. He doesn’t smell the same, but he doesn’t smell different. Geralt sniffs deeper, a question on the tip of his tongue. He remembers the silver chain suddenly and his eyes fly open. Jaskier has on a long shirt that’s buttoned up to his neck, and Geralt can only see a few links worth of the burn. “Questions...” 

“Yes, I supposed as much.” Jaskier says, pushing himself into more of a sitting position with his other hand, Geralt keeping a hand on the wrist of the one on his cheek. His shirt shifts and Geralt can see the skin along his collarbone is covered in bright red welts in the shape of a chain link. He sucks in breath through his teeth, a growl in his throat.

“Cimda, your friend, wouldn’t let me go back to the manor...” He says softly instead, his eyes stuck on the seared skin. Jaskier notices and pulls the shirt up, his hand on Geralt’s cheek turning his head up to him softly. “Wouldn’t let me kill them... Told me that you wouldn’t want it...” He continues, his eyes searching Jaskier’s face.

He’s taking in every detail. Jaskier is pretty and he is smiling up at him, and Geralt can see that his canines are a lot more pointed than normal. Sharper. Longer. Predatory. Jaskier’s eyes are trained on his own, and when Geralt catches the gaze, he can see that they are a lot brighter than normal. Shimmery. Like the night sky. But there’s something about his features that are distinctly less human than normal. They are sharper somehow. More pointed, more defined. He’s gorgeous, Geralt thinks before something in his head clicks. How he hadn’t pieced together before, and sure he’d figured as much when he saw Jaskier’s skin burned. But he isn’t human, or at least not completely human.

“Well, Cimda was correct about that. That Lord deserves worse than death, and I’m sure he’ll get it once people hear about what happened to me. Oxenfurt cares very deeply about the Academy, and especially of their bards.” Jaskier rambles for a moment before sighing. “I don’t have much time before I fall back asleep. So we’d better have this conversation.”

Geralt cocks his head slightly as Jaskier pulls his hand back. “What conversation...?”

“Well, it’s a series of conversations I suppose. The first of which is regarding one of the questions in your head.” Jaskier says, folding his hands over his lap and staring down at them. “You want to know what I am. Silver doesn’t burn human flesh. So. I suppose I should uh... Tell you the truth?” He says softly and Geralt can smell the anxiety in the room. He wants to tell Jaskier that it doesn’t matter. He’s just happy he’s alive and safe and here, but he doesn’t know how to form those words, so he just hums softly, waiting for Jaskier. “My father was an Incubus.” Jaskier says, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath.

Geralt’s brain must short circuit for a moment, because he freezes. Okay, he could deal with that. An Incubus. He’s dealt with a few of them. They’re not good news normally. He’s never actually met any of their offspring. Villagers normally killed the young incubi born children. The few he’d met weren’t great people, but he’d understood why they were as they were, he’d never killed any of the incubi born children, convinced them to stop hunting humans sure, but he knew they were trapped and damned in their paths as much as he was. They’d been shunned as children for things they couldn’t control, and they normally lived as bandits. 

A voice breaks him from his thinking. “If you want to leave, you’re free too. I’m well aware I’m just another monster.” Jaskier’s voice breaks and he sounds close to crying. Geralt reaches back out and grabs his hand, making Jaskier jump slightly. “If you’re going to kill me just do it Geralt.” He whispers, his throat sounding raw, his eyes searching the Witchers face.

Geralt growls low in his throat. The idea of Jaskier thinking he would kill him. It stung him. He wanted to run, wanted to get away from all of these feelings, but he knew better. “I wouldn’t.” He manages to growl out. Trying to calm down. “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” He’s staring up at Jaskier, hoping the bard can see what he’s feeling. When he sees tears streaking down his cheeks he tenses. “Jaskier...” He says softly, knowing it still came out raspy and deep, and Jaskier looks away. “Please, believe me. I would never.” He tries getting out the full sentence.  _ I would never kill you. I could never kill you. I can’t even imagine hurting you. You’re all I can think about. You. My bard. My Jaskier. _ “Julien...” He tries softly, he’d never actually called him that before, and it felt right on his tongue.  _ Julien. _

And at this Jaskier turns. “How do you...” He trails off, but the question is clear.

“I do listen you know.” Geralt says softly, shrugging. He squeezes Jaskier’s hand softly, and reaches up with his other hand to wipe a few of his tears away. Jaskier freezes. Geralt knows he needs to keep talking. Fill the silence. Make sure Jaskier knows how he feels. How he can’t feel like he felt when Jaskier was in danger again. Helpless. Worried.  _ Afraid _ . “Jask... I don’t care what you are. I didn’t care last night and I don’t care now. Because I know what you are.” He pauses, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “You’re my bard.” He feels his heart jump slightly, saying it outloud like that. It was different than just thinking about it. It was real. “You’re my friend.” He smiles at the bard, “In your own words, my very best friend in the world. Possibly my only.” 

Jaskier isn’t crying anymore, instead sitting in what could be considered shock. “You.. You don’t care?” And when Geralt shakes his head, Jaskier throws himself at the man. Wincing in slight pain at the pull on his bruised and burned skin. But he’s hugging Geralt now and he doesn’t care.

Geralt is frozen for a second, but hugs him back, his nose resting in the brown curls on Jaskiers head, inhaling deeply. Chamomile. Flowers.  _ Home. _ Jaskier has his head shoved into Geralt’s neck. “There’s.. Something else I suppose.. But honestly.. I’m about to fall asleep...” Jaskier murmurs, his lips brushing Geralt’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You should rest.” Geralt says as Jaskier pulls back and leans back into his pillows and blankets. 

“You should too. You look like hell.” Jaskier says quietly.

Geralt nods and stands to leave.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m quiet... Strong enough to have the next conversation with you. Not yet.” He says quietly. And Geralt freezes.

He turns back to Jaskier, with a soft smile. “Nothing you tell me is going to make me leave Jaskier. Not when I just broke into a manor to get you back. Trust me.” He says and Jaskier nods numbly. “Now. Get some rest.” Geralt says, and he sees Jaskier try to argue for a moment. “I will use Axii on you bard.” He adds, walking to the door. 

“Fine. Fine.” Jaskier mutters, his eyes slipping shut. 

Geralt is at the door when he hears Jaskier open his mouth again. He’s about to tell Jaskier to go to sleep when he hears him.

“Thank you Geralt...” Geralt pretends not to hear him. And if when he leaves the room he takes a minute to collect his thoughts, then no one would know. No one except Geralt.

  
  
  


~~~

  
  


Jaskier sinks into a deep sleep and wakes up almost two days later, his bruises are gone and the burn marks are fading. He thinks he’s alone when he wakes up, the sun his low on the horizon, a sunset fading into reds and oranges and purples. He smiles and looks around the room, his breath catching as he sees one grey haired Witcher sitting in a chair in the corner. Jaskier can see he is asleep, or at least meditating. He’s cleaner than normal, his hair pulled back in a messy looking bun. Jaskier can see his swords on his pack beside him and feels his chest tug. Is he here just to tell Jaskier goodbye. He’s not exactly sure how long he’s been out, but he knows he aches where he’s been laying on the bed. He shifts into a sitting position, stretching out his sore and tired muscles. Geralt’s eyes fly open at the noise and land on Jaskier’s own.

Jaskier can see several things cross through them before calming.  _ Fear. Worry. Relief _ . And then something he doesn’t quite understand. He makes a mental note to ask him about it. But then Geralt is walking to the side of his bed, intent in his steps. He sinks down into the chair still pressed up against the side of the bed and hands Jaskier a glass full of water. 

“You should probably drink.” He says softly, coaxing it into Jaskier’s hands. “You’ve been out for two days. Though, Triss said you’re mostly healed now. She just left an hour ago. If you want me to go find her I can. Yennefer’s been in to check on you every day. She seems fond of you. You’ve never mentioned her before.” Geralt was rambling and that made Jaskier nervous. He hadn’t heard Geralt talk this much in... Forever. It was scary... Jaskier took the water and smiled at Geralt, it not quite reaching his eyes. Geralt kept talking though. “I was worried. More worried than I think I’ve ever been. I just...”

Jaskier sipped from the water and reached a hand out, letting it land on Geralt’s cheek softly, his thumb brushing the skin under his eye gently. Geralt freezes, his eyes shooting up to Jaskier and leaning into the hand with a soft whine in the back of his throat. Jaskier knows his face looks confused, he’s trying to process why the Witcher is reacting the way he is. Geralt’s eyes have slipped closed, and he’s pressing his face into Jaskier’s hand. 

“Geralt...” Jaskier murmurs softly, letting his thumb gently glide on his cheek.

Geralt sighs softly and looks up at him. “I’m... Trying to find the words.” He finally says, inhaling deeply and sitting back, dropping Jaskier’s hand gently onto the bed. His eyes slip closed again and Jaskier stays quiet. If Geralt has something to say, he’s going to wait for him to be able to say it. He keeps his eyes trained to his face, watching him go through what could be described as the the five stages of grief. He scrunches up his nose at one point and Jaskier is afraid his heart is going to burst.  _ He’s gorgeous. _

Geralt finally opens his eyes and looks up at him, and Jaskier can see the worry in his eyes, different than before. “I was... Scared. For the first time in a very long time.” He finally says, is voice low, filled with an emotion Jaskier can’t quite place. “So scared.” He adds after a moment, his eyes trained to Jaskier. Jaskier is speechless. Geralt? Scared? Because of him? “When I got Cimda’s letter that you hadn’t returned from your job... I thought I was going to find a body Jaskier.” Jaskier can see the pain in Geralt’s eyes, as if he’s reliving the whole experience. “I was scared Jask... Terrified. I thought...” Geralt pauses, his voice breaking slightly. Jaskier has never seen the man deal with this many emotions at once, anger and annoyance surely, but never like this. “I thought you were going to be dead...” He finally whispers, and Jaskier feels his chest constrict. He’d thought he was going to die too. Thought he had when Geralt had pulled him out of his cell. But Geralt isn’t finished talking, and Jaskier is damned if he’s not going to listen to every word the normally stoic man has to say. 

Geralt sits up straighter, and Jaskier feels the need to do the same, wincing slightly. Geralt’s eyes strain and he’s growling low in his throat. Jaskier realizes what the look in his eye is.  _ Protective.  _ Jaskier feels his chest grow warm at that thought. “I... I realized a lot of things...” Geralt finally begins. “I’m not... Good. At this.” He says with a small chuckle.

Jaskier cocks his head slightly. “At.. At what?” He says softly, and he realizes it’s only the second time he’s spoken. He’s used to filling silences to stop his thoughts from spinning. But Geralt needs time to craft his words.

Geralt perks up slightly at Jaskier’s voice and smiles almost shyly at him. “Feelings.” He says, and Jaskier feels something in his chest hum. “Witchers don’t feel them as deeply as humans do. And we don’t feel them the same way either.” Geralt continues. Jaskier can tell he’s less anxious and Jaskier nods for him to continue. Geralt sighs softly. “You always ask me to talk about Witchers, and their lives. And... Well, I guess I’m finally going to.” Geralt chuckles softly. Jaskier smiles widely. In reality, he’d just wanted Geralt to talk to him about anything. “Witcher’s don’t feel emotions the way humans do. We do feel emotions, but they’re deeper, more primal, than human emotions.” Geralt pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath. “The fear... It’s primal, intense, strong. It’s all-encompassing...” Geralt’s voice drops so low that Jaskier wouldn’t have been able to hear it if he were a human. “It’s all I could feel... I was so afraid of you dying... Of you being dead... Of being too late... Of losing you...” Geralt is shaking slightly and Jaskier is more worried about that, than the fact that Geralt just admitted he was afraid of losing him. 

Jaskier shifts himself to be sitting in front of Geralt on the bed. He grabs his hands and gently brushes his thumbs over the knuckles. He hopes it’s as soothing as he meant for it to be. Geralt looks up at him and sighs shakily. “I wasn’t just afraid of losing you Jask...” He murmurs softly. “I was afraid of losing you without you knowing that I do care about you. Maybe too much for a Witcher to care. And I don’t know what to do about it. Because I worry about you all the time. You’re all I can think of most of the time. And it scares me...” Geralt is still shaking, but less so. 

Jaskier leans forward slowly and wraps his arms around Geralt’s shoulders. A hug just seems like the right thing to do. He’s surprised at how quickly Geralt’s arms wrap around him, how tight they are, as if he’s afraid he’s going to disappear. He feels Geralt nuzzle into the space where his shoulder and neck meet, inhaling deeply and almost purring. He lets his fingers brush against the back of Geralt’s neck softly, and he’s surprised by the rumble in the other’s chest. 

“Fuck... Jaskier...” He hears Geralt whisper, pulling back slightly. “Fuck...” He seems to be fighting himself on something and Jaskier just watches, quietly, allowing him time to figure out what he wants to say. “I... Witcher’s don’t feel love like humans do...” he says softly, his eyes sliding to the wall, the ceiling, anything but Jaskier’s face. “We feel... Possessive... Jealous... Protective...” He’s still looking away from Jaskier, and Jaskier just won’t have that. He raises one of his hands to the Witcher’s cheek and pulls his face to look at him. “Jask...” He says softly, his voice is strained.

Jaskier smiles and nods, he knows his eyes are swimming with tears. He was overwhelmed, and honestly who could blame him. The man he loved was telling him he felt the same way. He nods again and breaks into a grin, a few of the tears sliding down his cheeks. “I know what you’re saying Geralt. Don’t hurt yourself with all of those words.” He teases and he can feel some of Geralt’s tension leave his shoulders. “I...” He pauses, the nervousness creeping back into his mind. He shakes it off and looks Geralt in the eyes. “I love you too.”

He’s sure he looks like a wreck, tears down his face, still in the same clothes Triss had put him in two days ago, yellowed almost healed bruises across his cheek. But he melts with the way Geralt looks at him, like he’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He can feel the blush on his cheeks, and he can see that Geralt’s ears are also bright red. He’s still grinning when Geralt let’s out a soft noise, a groan deep in his throat. A question, one Jaskier understands. He can tell how Geralt feels. Like every nerve is on fire, full of anxiety, fear. He wants reassurance.

Jaskier leans forward slowly, leaning his forehead against Geralt’s and smiling at the noise it draws from the Witcher, almost a whimper. He catches Geralt’s eyes and watches as they flick down to his lips. Jaskier blushes darker and involuntarily licks them, watching Geralt’s eyes darken and narrow, flicking back up to his eyes.

Jaskier isn’t sure who moves first, but then their lips are crushed together, and he’s sure this time that Geralt is purring. The kiss is shorter than they both would have liked, but they both jump when the door opens. 

Yennefer lets out a laugh. “I’m sorry for intruding, but Triss told me to check on you. I’m assuming I can tell her you’re awake and feeling much better?” She smiles at Jaskier, and he nods, a grin still on his face. She rolls her eyes, but the smirk on her face is kind, she turns around and shuts the doors as she leaves. 

Jaskier lets out a soft laugh and turns back to Geralt, who is staring at him as if he’d hung the stars in the sky. He leans in and kisses him again, and it feels right. Like this is where he was meant to be.

Jaskier knows there are still conversations to be had, but right now, he’s happy to just be here. With his wolf.

_ His Witcher. _

_ His Wolf. _

_ His. _

And if he falls back asleep cuddled into a Witcher’s chest, his lips red and swollen from kissing the man, then nobody would know. Except him and Geralt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally kissed!  
> I love these two idiot boys.


	7. Open Hearts and Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt thinks about what Jaskier means to him, what he would do for his bard. Jaskier has another tough conversation, but knows he's in safe hands.
> 
> Alternatively; Geralt thinks a lot about how much he loves Jaskier. Jaskier comes out to Geralt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't slept in over 24 hours, but I had to finish this chapter up, I couldn't sleep with it half done!  
> It's a lot of thoughts because my brain is too tired to write good dialogue.  
> I hope you all enjoy! <3

And maybe Triss and Yennefer, who happen to walk into Jaskier’s room the next morning to see him sleeping on Geralt’s chest. Geralt hears them outside the door, but he doesn’t want to move Jaskier, who has been sleeping peacefully all night, his head resting over the Witcher’s chest, listening to his too-slow heartbeat. He cracks an eye open, he already knew who was outside the door before they came in, but he nodded at them silently from the bed, a soft smile on his face as Jaskier cuddled into him again. They’re smiling at him, Yennefer has a look in her eyes that takes a minute to place. _Relief_. He wondered why she would feel relieved by Jaskier sleeping on his chest. 

He watches as the two Sorceresses work, Yennefer is creating a potion of sorts, not one of the ones that Triss has given to Jaskier so far. Something much different. Geralt can tell by the strange ingredients, and he’s confused. He wants to ask what she’s doing, but he knows that the moment he talks Jaskier will wake up. Tris flits about the room, gathering up remaining bandages and ingredients from her simple healing potions. She smiles warmly at Geralt and nods at the bard, a twinkle in her eye. She shoots Geralt a wink, and he knows if he were human he’d be blushing. He looks down at his sleeping bard and smiles, he can tell Jaskier is starting to wake up, but he wants to commit this to his memory. Jaskier, safe and relaxed, curled up on his chest, sleeping peacefully. 

Geralt had spent most of the night watching his bard, lost in thought. He was afraid again. This time he knew it was irrational, but he didn’t want to fall asleep. He feared he would wake up and this would have all been a dream. And though Geralt is a strong man, he’s not sure he could handle that sort of pain.

He’d spent hours praying to whatever god was willing to listen to keep his bard safe, to keep him happy, to keep them together for as long as Jaskier would let him stay. He’d been leading Jaskier across the continent for three years, the continent that he’d been traveling for too many years alone. And Geralt thought, maybe, just maybe, he was ready to be lead. Wherever the bard would take him, wherever he would have him. He knows they still have conversations to have, but he doesn’t care. Nothing Jaskier tells him could push him away. 

And if Geralt is being honest, he’s pretty sure what the conversation is about. He had a basic understanding of glamours, and after piecing together that Jaskier had been using one he could put together the remaining pieces of the puzzle. Geralt had been around for a long time, he’d met a lot of people, and he’d helped many of them along his travels. He had his reputation as the Butcher, but for those that are outcast, they find a way to come together. Geralt hunted monsters, not humans, and those humans that were outcast were often more welcoming than those that considered them freaks and monsters. Geralt cared little of what humans considered strange, if they thought that people preferring another name or title were sick, then he could only imagine what they truly felt for him. His body filled with mutagens and magic. He’d been called many names by villagers demanding his help, but none of them stung more than watching those villagers hurling similar insults to their fellow humans.

Geralt let his fingers thread through the curls at the nape of Jaskier’s neck. Anytime that Jaskier made soft noises of content, Geralt felt a deep rumble in his chest, and it pulled him from his darker thoughts giving him a sense of clarity. For the first time in a long time, Geralt felt completely centered, in a way his meditation had never allowed him to feel. 

He felt Jaskier start to stir and let his hand run through his hair, the curls falling through his fingers. When Jaskier looks up to Geralt with a soft hum on his lips, he can’t help the rumble in his chest.

He can see Yennefer smirking over toward them. And when Jaskier leans up and gives Geralt a soft peck on the cheek before stretching and starting to sit up, Geralt can’t help but wrap his arms around him and pull him back to his chest. Jaskier lets out a laugh and Geralt feels his heart clench.

“Well, good morning to you too.” Jaskier murmurs, nuzzling into Geralt’s neck.

Geralt hums softly. “Good morning.” He noses into Jaskier’s curls and grins.

He hears Yennefer scoff lightly, “Oh my. I’d say get a room if I wasn’t in your current one.” 

Jaskier perks up slightly and wiggles his way out of Geralt’s hug. “Good morning to you too Yen.” He sits up, stretching out his arms and looking up at the witch. “Did you get all of the ingredients?” Geralt feels him tense slightly before turning to look at him.

Yennefer sends a smile over to Geralt and nods at him reassuringly. “Yes, I did. It should be ready by tonight.” 

Geralt looks up at Jaskier, the question in his eyes, but he wasn’t going to push. He would wait until Jaskier was ready to talk.

Jaskier turns back to Yennefer and she nods in understanding. “I’ll come back later. Just a few things left to set it all up.” Jaskier grins up at her before jumping out of the bed and wrapping his arms around her. 

“Thank you.” He murmurs and she staggers for a moment before returning the hug.

“Of course.” She leans into the hug and kisses his cheek softly. “You deserve this. To be happy. To be comfortable.”

Jaskier sniffles at that and Geralt can smell the soft scent of salt in the air. He doesn’t realize right away that he’s sitting up quickly and staring intensely at Jaskier until Yennefer releases from the hug and moves to the door. Jaskier stays frozen for a moment. “You do too.” He finally says softly. And her hand catches on the handle. “You deserve to be happy too, Yennefer.”

She turns and Geralt can see that the normal fire he’s seen in her eyes is dimmed, and they’re almost glassy. She gives a small nod and hurries out the door. Geralt stands up and walks behind Jaskier, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. His nose resting in his hair.

Jaskier smiles, tilting his head back to look up at the Witcher. “So. I think that conversation should happen.” His voice is laced with anxiety, and Geralt can feel him almost vibrate with it.

Geralt nods and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Whenever you’re ready, love.” He murmurs. 

Jaskier smiles and turns around, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s lips before pulling back and nodding towards the bed. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable.” He says, seeing a pile of clothes on the chair by the door.

Geralt goes to the bed and sits down, his eyes falling to his lap. 

  
  


~~~

  
  


Jaskier sighs shakily before walking over to the clothes. He can see his colorful doublets spread out and then catches sight of one of the darker linen shirts he’d gotten for traveling with Geralt. He turns away from Geralt and holds his breath for a second. He could have the conversation now. Without actually vocalizing all of the thoughts plaguing his mind. He looks over his shoulder and sees Geralt looking at his lap, purposefully keeping his eyes trained away. _Does that mean he already knows?_

“Hmm.” Jaskier murmurs quietly to himself, still staring over his shoulder at Geralt. He sees Geralt’s eyes flick up, catching his own. Jaskier turns around slightly, not quite facing Geralt, but not looking away either. 

He grabs the bottom of his shirt and, keeping his eyes glued to Geralt’s, pulls it up over his head. Once it’s over his head, he drops his gaze from Geralt and feels the nervousness well in his chest. 

He knows a lot of people would say he’s sick. Deranged. Considering he has gone by Jaskier and presented as a male since he started attending the Academy, nearly thirty years previously. The Academy had been an escape. Intellectuals and artists. They didn’t care, and there were more than just Jaskier that stayed safe at the Academy. But Jaskier had never been one to particularly care what people thought about him. He was eccentric, he knew that, but he was unapologetically himself, and that’s what set him apart. 

He lifted his gaze back up to Geralt and noticed his eyes were still firmly on his face. Jaskier turns to face him fully, holding the shirt tightly in his hands, the blush on his cheeks bright. “I... Uhm...” He said softly. _Okay, words aren’t working again._ “I figured, this is as good... Uhm. A start to the conversation. And by that, I definitely don’t mean that I don’t know how to start it.” He says finally, gesturing vaguely at his chest.

It wasn’t as if Jaskier was not feminine in a lot of ways. He preferred the finer things in life, fine silks, scented oils, and the warmth of a drawn bath. But with his potions and glamours, he’d managed to hide a lot of his femininity. His potions made sure to enhance his masculine traits but finding a potion to diminish one's feminine one was much more difficult. 

As such, Jaskier’s body hair was thick and dark. But he still had visible breasts. He could get away without using his ribbed undershirt if he was wearing puffy dress-wear, but they were very visible as he stood, shirtless in front of Geralt.

Geralt is still staring at his face, and Jaskier lets out a soft whine. “Stop looking at me like that.” He mutters, turning his face away.

“You’re gorgeous...” Geralt says quietly from the bed, seeming to surprise even himself that he’s spoken that thought out loud. 

Jaskier is blushing deeper scarlet now. “O-Oh.” He whispers, barely a breath escaping his lips.

“You are.” Geralt reassures him. “I don’t care, Jask. You’re you.” And Geralt is properly smiling at him, wide and bright and open.

And Jaskier feels like his heart is going to burst. So he turns around quickly, feeling the blush creep down his neck. He tosses the crumpled shirt beside the chair and pulls on the dark linen. He quickly kicks off his pants and pulls on a dark pair before turning back to face Geralt. His smile is still wide, and he’s staring at Jaskier like he’s a star in the night sky.

Jaskier walks back over to the bed and crawls into Geralt’s lap. He nuzzles into his neck and sighs softly. He hears Geralt purring deep in his chest and places a soft kiss on his neck.

“Jask.” Geralt murmurs softly, his nose pressed into his hair. 

“Hmm...?” He murmurs, perfectly content to stay where he was.

“I love you.” Geralt says softly, kissing his head.

Jaskier blushes and pushes further into Geralt’s neck. “I love you too.”

“So.” Geralt says softly, “If you don’t mind me asking. What was the potion Yennefer working on?” 

Jaskier smiles softly and leans back, staring up at Geralt. “If I’m being honest. I don’t know what it is. Just what we hope it will be able to do, along with her spell work.” He’s still nervous about this whole conversation.

Geralt just nods. “Okay. It smells like it’s a transformative potion.” He could smell the specific herbs and scents associated with these potions as soon as Yennefer had brought them into the room. And putting together the pieces again wasn’t hard. Yennefer and Jaskier were confident that they could use the potion and a hand-crafted spell to transform him. To change him. To make his life easier and more free.

Jaskier nods. “Mhm. We’re hoping that with that and a spell Yen is working on things will... Shift into place?” He shrugs. “The way they’re meant to be.”

Geralt nods and leans forward, giving Jaskier a kiss. “I hope it does. You deserve to be free. To be you.” 

Jaskier is blown away. He had never expected this conversation to go well. Especially not this well. Especially with Geralt.


	8. Reminisce on the Bad Times Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier talks with Geralt about his time at the Academy as a student. Yennefer and Triss prepare for a difficult spell.
> 
> Alternatively; Geralt learns about Jaskier's past. Jaskier, Yennefer, and Triss prepare to change history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy! It's been a few days, writing this chapter was difficult and it had a few rewrites, and it's a bit shorter than I wanted. But hey, it happens.

Around midday Cimda came in with a tray of food for the both of them, and he had promised Jaskier that the Lord had already been taken care of. He didn’t say by who, but he implied that they would be fine with any of the consequences the local law wanted to take. Geralt had only smirked to himself and wrapped his arms tighter around Jaskier. 

The two ate together, and spent the day walking through the academy. Jaskier had told Geralt about his time here, but now that Geralt was actively listening he heard so much more than what he was saying. How much coming to the academy had helped Jaskier find himself, his identity. Accepting himself as he was. Learning more about his incubus roots, as well as changing his identity. The Academy had given him a home, a family. And Jaskier looked at the halls and gardens with a smile on his face. 

Geralt had walked just behind him, listening to him talk about what he’d learned while being taught there. He didn’t understand all of the terms Jaskier was saying, but he knew he was talking about music and language and academics. They turned down a long hallway and Jaskier’s voice seemed to change. Geralt was still listening, but he noticed it took on a sort of edge. “They train more than academia here. I suppose it’s comparable to academia in a way. We’re trained, or at least, those of us that they deem worthy are trained to do... Certain jobs. Once the School of the Viper was wiped out, the Academy was in shambles. They’d been hiring assassins for years, to take care of those after the Academy and those that took issue with the people here.

So, they started teaching those of us, those that they thought were special, certain skills. I was here when they first started. It’s been...” Jaskier pauses, looking up at Geralt for a moment, worrying his lip for a moment. “Nearly fifty years or so ago. I’d been in attendance here for almost four years, learning any and everything I could. I wasn’t ready to travel the continent yet, and I was still perfecting my glamour potions.” Geralt just nods at him to keep going, and Jaskier turns back to the hallway, taking them down another corridor and out into one of the gardens. “We learned... A lot of things. I was one of the first students. They started teaching us small sword skills, before switching tunes when that ended up being a bit too obvious for a bard. So they changed to teaching us dagger use, which most of us had a basic understanding of, having grown up in smaller and less than savory towns. But they still trained us. Brought in actual for-hire assassins, which was, absolutely insane looking back. But it worked. We learned quickly, most of us were studying musicians. We had quick hands, and quicker mouths. And on top of learning dagger skills, we were taught potion making by a sorceress that came by once or twice. Simple potions mostly, swift healing and pain relief, a couple of... More dangerous ones, for swift and untraceable jobs...” Jaskier shivers to himself, even though the breeze blowing through the gardens is warm. “It wasn’t... I didn’t...” He pauses, looking over the flowers that are blossoming. “I don’t hate it. Who I am. What I’ve done.” He sighs and takes a seat at one of the benches. “I’ve only taken jobs that were justified. Jobs that helped get rid of bad people. And I’m not sorry about it. I’ve helped people. A lot of them. And I’m not sorry for it. But this last job... It was more personal. That lord. He’d hurt people before.” Jaskier pauses again. “Hurt me. Before... Before that... Hurt my brothers and sisters from the Academy.” His voice is thick. “I was too close. Too close to the contract. But I was also the only one that was going to be able to get it done.” Jaskier clears his throat, looking up into the afternoon sky. “I was angry. I let the anger lead my decisions. I was cocky. And I screwed up.” Geralt reaches across the small bench and laces his fingers with Jaskiers. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks more words than Geralt thinks he could say in this moment. Jaskier breathes out shakily, looking up at Geralt. “But you saved me. As per usual.” He looks tired, and sad. 

Geralt frowns for a moment before pulling softly on Jaskier’s hand to bring him closer. He wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder. “You’ve saved me plenty of times. It’s only fair that I return the favor.” He presses a kiss into Jaskier’s hair. “You seem tired, love. Do you wanna go back to the room?” Geralt pauses, he’d almost said our room, but that felt... Too new, too permanent. It scared him still. But when Jaskier looks up at him and nods, his eyes looking heavy, but also so full of an emotion Geralt still didn’t know how to place, he wasn’t scared. He smiled at his bard, leaning down and kissing his forehead softly. Jaskier beams up at him, and Geralt stands, pulling the bard to his feet. He remembers the path they took to get here, and he wraps his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, “Come on. Let’s get you back. Yennefer is probably going to be there soon.” Jaskier nods, clinging to Geralt’s side.

Geralt leads them through the hallways easily, and back to the room. Where, to their collective surprise, Yennefer is waiting for them. She smiles as they walk into the room, Geralt was smiling at something Jaskier had said. Jaskier grins and lets go of Geralt to give Yennefer a hug.

“Hi Yen!” He’s perked up a bit on the walk back, the conversation they’d had seemingly the cause of his exhaustion. But his energy was picking back up, and Geralt was pleased.

Yennefer smiled and hugged him back. “Jaskier. I saw you two were enjoying your day. I didn’t want to ruin that. You deserved a good day, after everything.” She kisses his cheek softly and turns to lead him to the bed. “I’ve got a few things set up. Triss is gonna help me with a few of the... More tricky parts.” She looks up at Geralt and motions for him to sit in the chair on the side of the bed. 

Jaskier is practically vibrating with excitement. “I trust you Yen. You and Triss both.”

Yennefer laughs softly, “And I’m glad for it. This is the first time anything like this has been attempted.” She sounds a bit hesitant, “I want things to go smoothly. I refuse to let anything bad happen to you.” 

Jaskier nods, “I trust you Yen.”

There’s a knock on the door and Triss walks in, “I’m ready when you all are.” She says as she pulls out a few potions from her pack. Geralt can see she has flowers in her hair and he can smell more in the bag she carries. He tries not to worry about if this goes badly. 

But, Geralt is worried, the same anxiety he had felt when riding back to the Academy with Jaskier. He was afraid of losing the bard. He was afraid of losing the best thing in his life. The color, the noise, the _home_. 

Jaskier and Yennefer were talking about what he was going to have to do throughout the process, and Geralt was trying to pay attention, but his mind was racing. He was only brought back to the present when a hand drops on his shoulder.

Triss smiles at him, reassuringly, and mouths “It’s going to be okay.”

Jaskier lays back on the bed, his shirt discarded on the floor. Yennefer and Triss are bringing potions to the bed and Geralt is still anxiously sitting in the chair.

Triss smiles at Geralt, and lays a hand on his shoulder, convincing him to move to the hallway. “You’re... You’re not going to want to be in here for this...” She gestures toward the hallway. 

Geralt nods, the anxiety still thick in his veins. He turns to Jaskier and squeezes his hand softly. “I’ll be back soon. You...” He wants to say _Stay alive. Don’t die on me. Please. I need you._ But his throat is thick and he’s having trouble making words.

“I’ll be okay.” Jaskier says with a smile. 

So, Geralt lets himself be led into the hallway and down to an empty office. 

Triss pats his shoulder and smiles. “He’ll be okay. Trust in Yen and I.” 

Geralt nods and sinks onto one of the sofas in the office. 

  
  


~~~

  
  


Yennefer and Triss are prepared for worst case scenarios. This sort of spell work had never been done before, and it was terrifying but exciting. Yennefer was anything if not confident. She’d confirmed with other sorcerers and sorceresses about different spell workings and she was confident this would work. She was headstrong and refused to back down from a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about writing through the actually spell taking place, but as a trans man myself, it's just very raw and too much for me to write as of this moment.  
> So, there's going to be a bit of a time skip for the next chapter.


	9. Destiny Works In Funny Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years have passed, growth has been made, and promises have been broken. Destiny has a way of weaving together peoples paths. Geralt and Jaskier both have to work on themselves, but that doesn't mean that they are happy about it.
> 
> Alternatively; Destiny has a way of throwing a wrench in peoples plans. A bathtub conversation pulls at the heartstrings of both parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy!

A lot of conversations had been had after the Academy. Introspection and reflection leading to acceptance. Things weren’t perfect, as they normally aren’t. Destiny has a funny way of bringing out the best and worst in people. Destiny also has a way of pushing people apart and bringing them back together stronger. 

On and off for the next several years, Geralt and Jaskier would travel together, splitting up for weeks or months before finding each other in a small village or along the Path. Geralt had been unable to follow through on his promises of following Jaskier wherever he had wanted to go. He had a job to do, monsters to kill, coin to make. And his inability to connect with his emotions more than his possessive and protective nature, Jaskier had decided to take some time to himself. Travelling to Oxenfurt more often, he’d visited more royals than he’d expected. 

The two had met up many times along the Path, but they travelled together infrequently. The strain on their confusing relationship too much for Jaskier to want to deal with while also dealing with learning more about his incubus abilities with the help of Yennefer. 

A little over half a decade later, Jaskier has a favor to ask of Geralt and so he seeks him out and finds he’s heading off to a town with a selkie problem. 

Jaskier sits and writes about the selkie encounter from the eyes of the man in the tavern, rolling his eyes at the man’s claim of Geralt’s death. 

“-and it swallowed that Witcher whole.” The man says, eyes wide.

“Oh. This is brilliant.” Jaskier says, scratching down the details before looking up at the man who has confusion clear on his face. “O-Oh. Sorry. It’s just. Geralt’s usually so stingy with the details. Ah, and then what happened?” He says, looking back down at his paper to make sure he has all of the details correct.

The man turns back to the crowd. “He died.” The crowd murmurs to themselves in fear.

Jaskier rolls his eyes again. “Eh. He’s fine.”

“Look. I was there. I saw it with my own-.” The man is cut off by none other than Geralt, barging through the door, covered in selkie guts.

“See.” Jaskier says, a smirk on his face. He laughs to himself.

“What’s that stench?” The man asks, the crowd covering their faces and starting to leave the tavern for fresh air.

“Selkie-more guts.” Geralt grunts out, dripping the foul liquid across the floor. “Had to kill it from the inside. I’ll take what I’m owed.” He’s obviously in a bad mood. But, Jaskier being Jaskier starts singing.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher. Oh, Valley of Plenty. Woah.” The townsfolk join in as the man tosses Geralt a satchel of coins and Jaskier walks around to him, making to pat his shoulder, but immediately deciding not to touch the blood and guts, grimacing to himself. “Thank you.” He adds, bowing from the crowd and following Geralt. “You’re welcome.” He says, sidling up to him. “And now Witcher, it’s time to repay your debt.” He says with a smirk as he turns to lean against the bar. “What debt, you’re probably asking yourself in your head right now. Well I’ll tell you. I’ve made you famous, Witcher.” Jaskier has never been afraid of Geralt, and this has held true throughout their tumultuous and confusing relationship. “By rights, I should be claiming ten percent of all your coin. But instead, all I’m asking for is a teeny. Teeny-weeny little favor.”

And in Geralt’s defense, he’s covered in Selkie-more guts, and drinking bad ale. “Fuck off bard.” Their relationship confused the both of them, they shared something deeper than they understood, and with Geralt not understanding his own feelings, Jaskier had walked away to work on himself. Hopefully giving Geralt the space to work out his own problems.

“For one measly night of service, you will gain a cornucopia of earthly delights. The greatest masters of the culinary arts, crafting morsels worthy of the gods. Maidens that would make the sun itself blush with a single comely smile. And rivers of the sweetest of drinks from the rarest of-” Jaskier turns and realizes he’s been abandoned. He rolls his eyes, a seemingly new favorite of his. “Food, women, and wine Geralt.” He says as he leans up against a post.

Geralt turns and motions for him to follow so he can hear him out. They both know that he will go. Geralt always goes when Jaskier seeks him out to accompany him.

  
~~~

  
  


Jaskier readies the bath for the Witcher while he removes his armor and ruined clothing. Geralt climbs into the bath, content to deal with the filth himself, but Jaskier is nothing if not persistent. So he pours a bucket of water over Geralt’s head, “Now, now. Stop your boorish grunts of protest. It is one night, of body-guarding your very best friend in the whole wide world. How hard could it be?” He says, walking around the tub to dry off his arms.

“I’m not your friend.” Geralt grunts, and Jaskier knows he means that they’re more than that, but he refuses to fall into that. If Geralt hasn’t worked on his own problems, Jaskier refuses to get involved. And he also refuses not to tease the man for not

“Oh, oh really. You usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom.” Jaskier’s voice had an edge of venom, before he softened. “Yea, well, exactly. That’s what I thought.” His voice sounded more fond than he had wanted. He crossed the room again, sighing. “Every lord, knight and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal. The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier’s triumphant performance.” He embellishes his words by tossing some sweet smelling salts into the water with Geralt. 

“How many of these Lords want to kill you?” Geralt asks, his chest tight, uncomfortable in his current situation.

“Hard to say.” Jaskier says, staring wistfully into the distance. “One stops keeping count after a while.” He shrugs to himself before walking back to the side of the tub. He hadn’t actually angered many lords (or ladies for that matter) since his previous bad experience with a lord. “Wives, concubines, mothers... Sometimes.” But that doesn’t stop him from trying to get on the Witcher’s nerves. He knows Geralt is still possessive of him, regardless of the fact that he won’t wise up and figure out his own emotional issues to allow that. So Jaskier turns, facing Geralt and sits down on the small stool beside the tub. “Ooh. Yea, that face. Scary face. No lord in his right mind will come close if you're standing next to me with a puss like that.” Geralt raises a tankard to his lips before Jaskier is pulling it out of his fingers. “Oops on second thought might want to lay off the Cintran ale. Clear your head would be best.” He says, standing and moving the ale away from the Witcher.   
“I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry.” Geralt says, glaring at Jaskier’s back. “I’m not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men.”

“Yes, yes, yes. You never get involved. Except you actually do. All of the time.” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Huh. Is this what happens when you get old. You get unbearably crotchety and cantankerous.” He waves both hands at Geralt in the tub, trying to keep his voice neutral but failing to keep the annoyance and bitterness out of it. “Actually, I’ve always wanted to know. Do Witcher’s ever retire?” he already knows the answer of course, he’d lived through it after Yennefer had performed the spell. He’d lived through Geralt leaving him a month later, promises dead on his lips, fear following him away from Oxenfurt. Jaskier had lived through this question once before, without even asking it.

“Yea. When they slow and get killed.” Geralt answers, purposefully ignoring the bait that is Jaskier getting on his nerves.

“Come on.” Jaskier says, a small smirk on his face. The Witcher may think he’s super smart, however, Jaskier has always been one step ahead. “You must want something for yourself once all this monster hunting nonsense is over with.”

“I want nothing.” A lie, Jaskier can tell. But he doesn’t say anything, it hurts none-the-less.

“Well. Who knows. Maybe someone out there will want you.” Jaskier says, pointedly not saying that he did. He knew better. And he would not beg anyone, especially not an emotionally-stunted Witcher, to love him back.

“I need no one.” Geralt says, casting his eyes downward. Another lie, but easier to tell after years of telling himself it. “And the last thing I want is someone needing me.” He turns his face, looking up at Jaskier. The pain is evident in both of their eyes. This careful song and dance around each other swelling to a crescendo. They’re both hurting each other, on purpose, and they both know that. But it seems that they can’t help themselves.

Jaskier sighs softly, raising his head and looking Geralt in the eyes. “And yet. Here we are.” He’s surprised any words came out. His throat burns and his eyes are threatening to fill with tears. 

He gets a simple grunted “Hmm.” from Geralt and knows this conversation is over. They’ve always skirted by the actual issue, getting closer to the root and then quickly running away from it. “Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier?” Geralt says, looking around the room.

“Ah, well. They were sort of covered in, Selkie-more guts, so I sent them away to be washed. Anyway. You’re not going tonight as a Witcher.” A smirk on his face. Oh no, he was making sure the Witcher was dressed nicely. Regardless of whether or not that pissed him off.

Jaskier was tired of dealing with the emotionally repressed Witcher refusing to deal with his own issues. So he’d decided the best choice was to move on. He just hadn’t expected it to be as hard as it was. As hard as it continued to be.

He moved his way out of the room, leaving Geralt to clean himself. He sighed as he sank onto his own bed. He knew better than to let himself think about everything, especially with Geralt here, he knew it was going to push him over the edge.

And with the incubus chaos he was still struggling to get a hang of controlling, he had to make sure his mind was as steady as possible. So he leaned back on the bed, pulling his lute into his lap and strumming it idly. It was a calming experience, and it helped to center himself, to not give the chaos room to reign.

Meanwhile Geralt was struggling with controlling his very rudimentary emotions. He wasn’t angry. But he was frustrated, annoyed, upset. Mostly with himself. He knew Jaskier was hurting, knew that he was going to be hurting for as long as Geralt took to get himself under control. He knew Jaskier didn’t think he was trying, but Geralt had never been more intent on bettering himself. Working through his own feelings and thoughts. And Geralt knew it had been too many years for a typical human. But he wasn’t a human, and neither was Jaskier. Geralt sighed to himself, “Fuck.” He knew he needed to have an actual conversation with Jaskier. Like they had in the Academy. But he wasn’t sure how to even go about starting it. 

He knew he needed to have that conversation sooner rather than later. He wanted to have it sooner. He should have had it years ago. But if he doesn’t work through this soon, he’s afraid he’s going to lose him.

And Geralt was still afraid. Afraid of losing his bard. Afraid of not being enough. Afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know.  
> I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!  
> (But like. Only a little.)  
> I went full angst, but I promise things will get better soon!


	10. Libraries and Travelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Flashback to one of the Adventures Jaskier, Triss and Yennefer get up to after Geralt leaves.  
> Jaskier isn't doing great, suffering less from his physical injuries and more from his emotional scars, but he's not letting that stop him. Yen and Triss are trying their best to help, but what can they do for a bard that has lost his muse.
> 
> Alternatively; Jaskier is sad and determined. Yen and Triss are amazing friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a backtrack so that we can establish Jask, Yen and Triss as great friends.  
> I promise I'll get back to Geralt dealing with his emotions soon!

Shortly after Geralt left Oxenfurt, Jaskier decided he needed a change of pace. He was fully healed from the previous injuries, and was spending most of his days reading at the Academy libraries. Triss and Yennefer were still in Oxenfurt, tying up loose ends and making sure to keep an eye on Jaskier. They were both worried about the lasting effects of the spell work they had managed, but perhaps they were even more worried about how he was dealing with Geralt’s abandonment. They could both tell he was struggling to deal with his emotions, and it was causing issues with his ability to control his chaos.

Yennefer found Jaskier in the back of the library, surrounded by books at a secluded table. He was reading the few works that they had accumulated over the years about incubi and succubi. There were very few books in the entire continent that talked about these creatures, and the few books that Jaskier had learned about weren’t exactly in a place that was accessible to him. From the few sources he’d been able to talk to over the many years, he knew that the largest range of knowledge was available at the Witcher schools, not with the public. And there was no way Jaskier was going to one of the few Witcher schools left to ask about using their library. He’d considered asking Geralt about it, but he’d been abandoned by the man. And wasn’t that part of the reason he was actively researching this again. 

Yennefer smiled sadly at him as she walked closer, sliding into the chair across from him. “Jask.”

He looks up, a small frown on his face. “Hey Yen. What are you up to?” Yennefer can see the slight dark circles under his eyes. She knows he hasn’t been sleeping well, the nightmares from the attack fading to nightmares of Geralt leaving. She’s taken to sleeping next door to Jaskier’s room so she can hear when he starts screaming in the middle of the night. She’s woken up more mornings in the past week in Jaskier’s bed, hugging her friend, than she has in her own. 

“I’m worried about you Jask.” She says, picking up one of the several books on the table, skimming through it with a sigh. “You’re not sleeping. You’re barely eating.”

Jaskier bristles slightly. “I’m fine.”

“But you’re not. And that’s okay.” Yennefer looks up at him and smiles widely. “I have an idea.”

Jaskier sighs, he knows she’s right, but admitting that he’s hurt by this means it’s real and he’s not ready for that. “And pray tell, what is that Yen?” He’s interested, anything to get away from these halls, the looks from people who’d seen what had happened. It was like being trapped, and he hated feeling this way. 

“We’re going to Aretuza. Triss was called back for some sort of meeting, and while they don’t want me back, I feel like it’s the best way for us to test out the full range of your chaos.” She doesn’t leave much space for argument. 

Jaskier sighed softly, closing the book he’d been reading for the fifth time. “Am I even allowed at Aretuza?”

“Well. I know that I’m not welcome at Aretuza, do you think I care if they ‘allow’ you to be there.” She grins. “We may not have the largest book collections, but I can talk to some of my contacts and see what we can dig up. We’ll figure this out Jask. And it will keep your mind off of that dumbass.” She says, venom in her voice. She understood why Geralt left, but she was angry at the idiot. She’d told him so as he was leaving, that he was a coward and a moron.

“Well, I’m getting nowhere here. So, I might as well accompany you two lovely ladies.” He smiles, the first one she’s seen in days.

“Amazing. Get yourself packed. We’ll be leaving tonight. No actual travelling required.” 

“Okay, okay.” Jaskier mutters, standing to put the books away. 

“No, no. I’ll get this. Go pack.” Yennefer says, waving her hands at the books.

Jaskier watches her for a moment and nods. “Yen.” He says softly, turning to leave. “Thank you. For everything.”

She smiles and just shakes her head. “Don’t thank me yet. There’s still so much more to do.”

  
  


~~~

  
  


Jaskier, Yennefer, and Triss spent almost three months in Aretuza before they decided to leave. Yennefer still didn’t like the place, and Jaskier could understand why. It was cold, and not just because of the draft. But it held very little happiness in the damp walls, and it wasn’t helping Jaskier’s sadness. 

So they left Aretuza, or rather Jaskier left Aretuza, and within a week Yennefer and Triss had found him. He was in a tavern performing for a small group, he seemed happier than he had before leaving Aretuza. But Yennefer could still see the stress in his shoulders, the pain in his eyes. 

Jaskier danced around the room, singing and strumming his lute, the townspeople clapping along and laughing. He noticed them and his smile widened slightly, he nodded towards an empty table for them and they walked to it, sitting down and looking toward each other nervously.

Triss sighs and grabs Yennefer’s hand. “He’s gonna be okay. I found out about some older books and stories that we can track down. They’ll give us a better understanding of how to help Jaskier train. It will get his mind off of... You know...” She said softly, looking up at Triss with a soft smile.

“We can look into it...” Yennefer says softly, a smile on her face as she holds Triss’s hand. “Where do we need to go, Jaskier might enjoy the travel?” She continues, her eyes jumping to the bard still singing.

“Well... I don’t think Jaskier should accompany. I think that, maybe... You should stay with Jaskier and I should go and retrieve the texts and bring them back.” Triss says with a soft sigh. 

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t we come with?” Yennefer says, turning to look at Triss. 

“The most informative texts are at the Witcher schools. It’s almost winter, and Kaer Morhen is the closest. I think it would be best if you stayed here with Jaskier, so as not to run into a certain Witcher.” Triss says, a frown on her face. “I’ve run into a few of the other Witchers from Kaer Morhen. They’re... They’re all a bit stand-offish in their own ways. But, I think I can get them to listen to reason.”

Yennefer sighs, her eyes dancing around the room as Jaskier launches into another song about heartbreak. “Go. Keep me updated on how it’s going, and if they give you any issues, let me know. I will get those books whether they want me to or not.” She affirms, venom in her voice.

“I’ll be back soon, my love. Take care of our bard friend.” Triss places a kiss on Yennefer's cheek and leaves the tavern. Yennefer can feel her portal fade and sighs, she knows Triss can negotiate, but after her previous interactions with a certain White Wolf, she didn’t feel certain that they would get the books.

  
  


  
~~~

  
  
  


Triss had returned the next day, a pile of books bound together and a smirk on her face. Yennefer had been beyond pleased, and Jaskier was ecstatic. He loved his two friends dearly, and when he saw the books he lit up. 

“What are these?” He asked, his hand sliding over the stack cautiously.

“Old texts. About Incubi and Succubi. And more importantly. Their offspring.” Triss says, her smirk paving way to a full grin. 

Jaskier gasps, and wraps his arms around Triss in a hug. “Wherever did you find them!?” 

“I know a few people.” She said with a shrug and laughed. “Well, I met a few people, whom I now know. And they graciously have let me take them in return for a small favor.”

“Oh no, what’s the favor?” Jaskier asks pulling back from the hug.

“Oh, just some simple protection spells. Nothing too fancy.” Triss says with another laugh, and Yennefer is grinning at her.

“Well, we’re not going to learn anything just standing around and chatting.” Yennefer says as she picks up one of the books, blowing on it to remove the dust. “Let’s get to it.”

And so the three went to Jaskier’s room to read through the dusty books, learning relatively little of what they were curious about, but receiving many more questions than they had started with. 

“Huh. So apparently no one really knows what Incubi offspring are capable of. Most of us don’t live long enough to, as they so kindly put it ‘study’. Where did you get these books again?” Jaskier says, setting down another one of the books.

“Well, I got them from a Witcher school. So I really figured they would know more.” Triss says, exhaustion seeping into her voice. Yennefer had gone down to the tavern to get them some dinner and drinks.

“You went... To a Witcher school. To get me books?” Jaskier says, shock evident on his face.

“I did indeed. But, I suppose it wasn’t as worthwhile as we had thought. They know almost less than we do.” She sighed and leaned back on the bed. “And now I owe that old man a protection spell for the grounds come spring.”

“Well. You’re at least bringing me with for that!” Jaskier says with a huff, and a small chuckle. “I don’t enjoy being left behind.”

Triss sits up and rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t that I left you behind Jask. Yen and I thought it best if-.”

“If you went and we stayed here. I got it. I got it.” Jaskier sighed softly. “You went to Kaer Morhen didn’t you. And it’s almost winter. You didn’t want me to have to see Geralt.”

“Well, yes. We didn’t want to hurt you like that.” Triss says softly.

“I’m fine. I swear it Triss. It hurt... It did. But, if he doesn’t want me, I can’t stay stuck on him. I’ve just got to move along, and move along I will. My life does not, and will not, hinge on one Geralt of Rivia.” Jaskier says matter-of-factly. Setting the book down with a flourish. “And besides. I’ve always wanted to see Kaer Morhen, even before I met that mangy wolf.” He flashes his too long fangs in a grin. “And if you said you met an older Witcher, I can ask him if he’s met any of us personally. If there’s anything I should know.”

Triss grins as Yennefer walks in the door with their stews. “Once we eat, we can head out then. It’s gorgeous at night.” Yennefer stares confused at Triss. “We’re going to Kaer Morhen. There’s no information in these books. And Jaskier has decided he wants to ask Vesemir about Incubi offspring himself.” Triss adds looking Yennefer in the eyes.

And Jaskier knows they’re having a conversation just from the look, but he doesn’t care, he’s already packing. He’s made up his mind. If he wants to learn more about who and what he is, he has to do things he would rather not. And putting himself in the position to run into the wolf that ran away is one of those things.

  
  
  


~~~

  
  
  


Arriving in Kaer Morhen by portal is disorienting. Jaskier had imagined many things, but the ruins and towers weren’t part of those imaginations. He was still stunned and had a tune in his head before Vesemir even approached them.

Triss immediately started talking with the man about the protection spell and Yennefer smiled at her from afar, taking up a spot by one of the walls. Jaskier joined her and strummed his lute quietly, drawing minimal attention from the Witcher.

“You two are perfect together.” He murmurs softly as he strums a few chords.

Yennefer smiles and blushes lightly. “She’s perfect.”

“As are you. I only hope that one day I find a love half as strong and pure as you two.” He says with a smile. He looks up at the sky and sighs. “It is beautiful at night, I can almost imagine it during the day.”

“Well, we’d better follow those two if we want to find somewhere to sleep tonight.” Yennefer says, pushing herself off of the wall as Triss and Vesemir make their way down a hallway. 

“Ah, I suppose that would be a good idea.” Jaskier slings his lute over his shoulder and follows in step.

They spend less than a week in Kaer Morhen, Vesemir has very little knowledge of Incubi offspring, but he promises Triss that he will ask those that return this winter for anything they know to tell her in the spring when she returns for the protection spells. They thank him for his generous hospitality and portal back to Oxenfurt, where they plan to do some training based on what they’ve learned from the Witcher.

The next day, a grey hair, golden eyed Witcher shows up a Kaer Morhen, and is confused by the smell of chamomile and springtime in the air. And if a certain older Witcher smacks him upside the head without a comment, well, he’s only partially sure he understands why.


	11. If Destiny Has A Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier leaves Cintra after the betrothal, heading for Oxenfurt. Geralt finally opens up and makes things right again.
> 
> Alternatively; Jaskier talks to his horse. Geralt takes his bard to the coast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy!  
> This ended up being a lot longer than I had expected it to be!

After the disaster that was the betrothal, Jaskier decided to take off for a while. He didn’t stick around very long, long enough to collect his coin from Calanthe’s court. But not long enough to find out where Geralt went. He didn’t much care what the Witcher was up to. He wanted to get out of Cintra as quick as he could, the stress of the night was getting to him when he made his way to the stables and onto his horse. Cimda had given him Buttercup when he’d gone back to Oxenfurt, a laugh on his lips, but Jaskier had taken to her quickly. She was easy to ride, and generally an easy horse to deal with. 

He sighed and patted her neck softly, “Okay, girl. It’s time to go. It’s been a strange night.” He murmurs as he steers her out of the stables and onto the streets. His lute is strung on his back and he looks up at the sky. “I think it’s time to go back to Oxenfurt. Get away from... This for a while.” Jaskier had taken to talking to Buttercup about whatever crosses his mind. But he’d realized quite quickly that he would also talk to her about how he was emotionally, something he hadn’t really done before. He was always talking, but never saying much. “It wasn’t a good idea, was it girl.” He murmured, patting her neck as she made her way out of the city. “Seeking him out again. Wasn’t a good idea.” He added, as if she would understand. “Gods above, I’m such an idiot. I just keep seeking out heartbreak, don’t I, Buttercup.”

Jaskier settles and quiets for a while, leading Buttercup down dark paths. It was late in the night, and he could tell that the sun would be coming up in the next few hours. But, he couldn’t help but not feel tired.

He’d been training with Yennefer and Triss for the last few years for a few months a year. He’d gotten control over most of his chaos, but he was still struggling. His senses were sharper, and he’d learned a few simpler sigils and signs. Yennefer had been showing him how to channel his chaos into protective and defensive magic.

So when Jaskier heard the sound of a horse trotting behind him he stiffened in his saddle. No one should be, by sane person standards, travelling this late. He could hear, whomever the rider was, spur their horse to move faster and Jaskier sighed to himself. Mentally preparing for a fight. He kept his head low and spurred Buttercup to pick up her pace slightly. He could see perfectly in the low light, and he made sure she stayed on the path. He was getting anxious when he heard a soft grunt from behind him as the horse and rider caught up. A grunt he knew too well. Geralt.

He let his shoulders loosen and calmed Buttercup into a slow trot. He hadn’t wanted the Wolf to know where he was heading, and he especially didn’t want to deal with him after he’d been such a moron at the betrothal. The Law of Surprise was no joke, and now, now Geralt had a child. Jaskier sighed, shaking his head. “Idiot.” He muttered to himself.

Geralt grunts softly, and Jaskier can tell he agrees. “I know.”

“Hmm. Do you? Do you truly know?” Jaskier says, sending a glare over his shoulder at him. 

Geralt looks  _ anxious _ . And that doesn’t bode well for Jaskier. The last time he’d looked nervous it hadn’t ended well for either of them. And Jaskier still has the broken heart to prove it.

“Jask...”

“No. I’ve told you, that is not a name you get to call me.” Jaskier states, staring heavily forward, a crease on his brow. 

“Fine. Julian. Please. Let me speak.” Geralt asks, near begs.

Jaskier sighs, if he was begging, and this turned out exactly as it had before he was going to kill the man. “Go ahead. I cannot stop you.”

“You could and you know that.” Geralt says softly before guiding Roach beside Buttercup. “But, if you will hear me out, I would greatly appreciate it.” Jaskier can hear the hesitation in his voice but stays quiet. If Geralt was willing to talk, Jaskier was going to listen. He’d learned from before that it was all he could do in these situations. “I was wrong.”  _ Well that’s a good start _ , Jaskier thinks with a scoff. “I was Jaskier. I was wrong. About so many things. About everything, if I’m honest.” His voice trails off and Jaskier is concerned to say the least. Geralt doesn’t often admit to being wrong, and when he does it's something huge. “I wasn’t. No. I was afraid. Terrified. I still am.”  _ What? _ “I’m so scared of losing you or you getting hurt or leaving or finding someone better...” Geralt trailed off again, his voice more gruff than normal. “I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt again Jask... I don’t know what I would do if I lost you for good...” He whispers and Jaskier decides to sneak a look at the Witcher beside him. His eyes lock with gold and he sees the pain, the anxiety, the fear. “I promised you... So many things... And I broke all of them because I was afraid I wasn’t good enough...” Jaskier feels his breath catch in his throat. So that’s what the last conversation at Oxenfurt had been about. “You deserve so much more...”

Jaskier rolls his eyes, breaking their eye contact and returning his eyes forward. “I deserve what I want.” He says, his voice unwavering despite the simmering anxieties in his chest. “And what I want is you.” He sighs then and shakes his head. “But, you made it perfectly clear that we wouldn’t work out. And so, I settle for second best. Which is no one. Because no one can compare to what I want Geralt.” He finishes, flicking his eyes back to the Witcher.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, in which Jaskier accepts that Geralt has decided he’s done talking. “You do deserve what you want...” 

Jaskier hums in agreement.

“And... I think I’m ready to give it to you...” Geralt adds, his voice soft, unsteady. 

Jaskier turns his head, catching golden eyes once more. The sun is starting to peak over the horizon and it glints off of them beautifully. “Are you sure about this Wolf. Because I’m not easy to get rid of. As you’ve learned over the past decade.”

Geralt nods, pulling Roach to a near stop. “I’m sure. I just... Jask...” he’s quiet, and Jaskier knows that the distance has been a strain on both of them. Possibly more so on the Witcher. Because while Jaskier was deeply in love with the White Wolf, he’d known love many times. Fell in love with everyone he met, at least in some way. But Geralt, Geralt had known love so little. So few times. And he was sure it was hard to deal with, especially whenever he’d been trained to ignore and push it down. So he pulled Buttercup to a stop a few yards ahead. He turns and sees Geralt is staring at him, anxiety still in his eyes.

So, he does the logical thing, and swings himself off of Buttercup, patting her neck softly. He hears Geralt swinging off of Roach and turns toward him. Geralt looks, well, lost. Like this is a new path, something he’d never been expecting.

Jaskier smiles softly and walks toward him. “You’re sure? This is for certain? You want to fix this, to continue what we started in Oxenfurt?”

Geralt nods. “I want you Jask. It’s always you.” Geralt runs a hand through his hair and turns suddenly, pacing a few steps away. “Gods it’s always been you hasn’t it. Since Posada it’s been you. Singing and pushing your way into my life, like you belong. Because you do. Because Destiny has brought you into my life and she intends you to stay.”

“Hmm. So we’re done fighting Destiny are we?” Jaskier pushes, as he always does.

“I’m done fighting myself. Gods Jaskier. I’m done fighting every one of my instincts. All I want is you. You are home, a home I never thought I would get. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Warmth and kindness and  _ love _ .” Geralt growls, turning back to Jaskier. “I’ve fought myself... Every day since I left... Because how could someone, anyone, love me. Accept my love. My fucked up love.” Geralt is seething, his chest heaving, his eyes are sharp.

But Jaskier ignores it. Pushes as he does and walks directly up to him. “Did you maybe stop to think. That perhaps, I quite enjoy your, as you so quaintly put it, fucked up love. And that you are all that I want.” He says, pressing himself up against the Witchers chest.

Geralt lets out a  _ whimper _ and Jaskier knows that he’s let down his guard. Actually worked through his issues and he smiles to himself. “Jask...” He whimpers again, keeping his hands to his sides.

“Geralt.” He murmurs softly, looking into his eyes as he brings a hand up to cup the Witcher’s cheek. Geralt leans into it with a sigh and Jaskier lets his thumb rub softly on his cheek.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s wrist.

“I love you, my Wolf.” Jaskier says as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

Which in turn causes Geralt to growl. It’s much too soft, all of it. And he’s uncomfortable this vulnerable. But he owes it to Jaskier to be honest and open and true to him. He’s tired of being alone, and scared, and cut off. And he had promises to keep.

  
  


~~~

  
  


Jaskier doesn’t make it to Oxenfurt in the coming days. Instead he travels with Geralt for a while, the two enjoying the closeness without the barriers they had put up between them. They were both still learning their places with one another, and when they split up for a while it was mutual that they would seek each other out once they had completed their odd jobs. And they would always seek one another out, the strings of Destiny pulling them together. 

  
  


~~~

  
  


This continued for several years, until a dragon hunt brought them together once more, only a few months after they had last left each other.

Jaskier didn’t like the idea of it, and had said so. Geralt had waved it off, but he agreed. Destiny was drawing him away from this place, and he’d long since given up fighting her.

So when Jaskier suggested they go to the coast instead, Geralt agreed.

And so they spent their summer and fall basking in the sandy beaches and crisp waves. Jaskier had never seen Geralt so calm, and when the word came of Cintra falling, they left the coast and went to find their surprise child. Together. As Destiny had intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of this au!  
> I'm going to be starting up a new one soon!  
> I hope you all enjoyed!  
> [ Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/AndieDeclyn)


End file.
